


A Triangle (is the strongest shape)

by Shadowscast



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Post-Series, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowscast/pseuds/Shadowscast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're better together.  All three of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Kiss Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Click through to the end notes for content warnings, if you would like to be warned.
> 
> 2) Since the show is Canadian, I've used Canadian spelling. This is basically just a cross between American spelling and British spelling, but I swear to you that we really do have our own spelling dictionaries!
> 
> 3) Huge, huge thanks to my beta reader, Yourlibrarian! She is an absolute pleasure to work with.

"Okay, let's see 'em," Vic said, shoving the last of his chips into the centre of the table.

Mac turned over his cards with a grin—two Aces, two queens, and a seven of diamonds. His grin didn't falter when Vic showed his hand of five spades. "Come to Papa," Mac said, reaching for the pile of chips.

"Not so fast," Vic said, snatching at Mac's hand. "A flush beats two pairs, remember?"

"Oh come on." Mac turned to Vic, peering over his sunglasses. "Seriously?"

"Jesus Christ, what kind of a con man doesn't even know how to play poker?"

"Maybe I'm scamming you," Mac suggested, sitting back. "Let you think I'm an easy mark, then—wham!" he clapped his hands, "in for the kill."

"Yeah, right." Vic gathered up the chips and took a handful. Stuffed them in his mouth and crunched.

Potato chips. They were playing for potato chips. Because Mac had no fucking idea how to play poker and Vic had been trying to teach him for the past two hours.

"We didn't play poker in Hong Kong," Mac said. "Look, sometime I'll teach you Mahjong."

Vic snorted. "Isn't that an old-ladies game?"

"We'd need four players—have to get the girls into it. Li Ann and I used to play with the godfather and Michael."

Awkward silence. Shit. Vic looked up. Mac was suddenly intently studying his own fingernails. What with the sunglasses, it was hard to read his expression.

And what the fuck was Mac doing wearing sunglasses inside Vic's apartment at eleven pm?

It had been two months since Michael had tried to kill Mac. It was one of those things they just didn't talk about.

Unless they were going to talk about it now?

"So anyway," Mac said, "I guess Li Ann isn't going to call."

"Yeah," Vic said. Not going to talk about Michael, check. "Maybe you should just go home. I mean, she's probably home herself by now."

"Unless she—"

"Nah."

"No, I mean—but she could've, this time."

"Fifth time's the charm?" Vic snorted. "Seriously, no. Li Ann does not put out on the first date."

"Maybe with you she didn't." Mac smirked.

Vic rolled his eyes. "And you're trying to say she did with you? Come on, you two had known each other since you were, like, _twelve_. I don't think the 'first date' scenario really applied."

Mac shrugged. "I'm just saying—she says it's different now. She's different."

"I'll say." Vic shook his head. "I still can't believe she's dating guys from _personals ads_." 

"Well how else is she going to meet someone from outside the Agency?" Mac asked, a bit defensively.

Mac had a point. "She could always do what we do," Vic suggested. "Start dating an arms dealer or an art thief."

They both laughed a bit louder and longer than the comment had really deserved.

"Another beer?" Vic offered, catching his breath.

"Yeah," Mac said, obviously forgetting he'd been about to go home.

Just as Vic was opening the fridge, he heard his apartment door opening.

"Oh thank God," Vic heard Mac mutter.

Vic grabbed a third bottle of beer.

* * *

"So, another dud?" Vic hazarded.

"Total disaster," Li Ann said. She took a long drink before elaborating. "The restaurant was robbed."

"Oh my God," Mac said, sitting up straighter. "Are you okay?" He'd taken his sunglasses off when Li Ann arrived. The three of them were in Vic's living room now; Mac and Vic at opposite ends of the couch, Li Ann in the easy chair.

Li Ann rolled her eyes. "The guy was just some poor junky. He looked like he'd never held a gun before. I disarmed him before he hurt anybody. Unfortunately my date was so scared he had an asthma attack. I had to take him to the E.R.."

"Oooooh," Vic said with a sympathetic wince.

"You know what?" Li Ann said. "I think we're not meant to date normal people."

"You're just coming to that conclusion now?" Mac asked.

Li Ann sighed. "I thought it was worth a try."

"What's the appeal of normal, anyway?" Mac said. "Normal is boring."

"I thought it might make a nice change," Li Ann said.

"From Vic?" Mac snickered into his bottle. "Not likely."

"Hey, if I'm boring you, feel free to go hang out with one of your more exciting friends," Vic said. "Oh, wait. You don't have any."

"Can you two be in a room for ten minutes without bickering?" Li Ann asked with an edge of irritation.

"Hey, we've been hanging out all evening," Mac said. "Having a great time. Vic's been teaching me to play poker. We're not bickering, we're just having fun." He leaned over to mock-punch Vic in the shoulder, grinning.

"I should've just spent the evening with you guys," Li Ann said, casting a gloomy look down at her beer. "It would've been better than that so-called date."

"Tomorrow night, then?" Mac asked, perking up. "We could rent a kung fu flick, get takeout."

Li Ann buried her face in her hands, but Vic could see a smile peeking through. "Yes," she said. "I give up. No more dating. I'll just grow old alone alongside you guys."

"Well, you wouldn't be technically alone," Vic pointed out. "As long as you're with us."

"And it's not like we're actually going to grow old," Mac said.

There was an awkward silence. Li Ann looked at the bottle in her hands and Vic looked at Mac. Mac stared back at him, a challenging look in his eyes.

"Okay, Jesus Mac, you don't just _say_ things like that," Vic said after a tense moment.

"What?" Mac slouched down on the couch and flipped his sunglasses back on. "There's no point in denying it. We get shot at on a weekly basis. We came _really_ close to getting blown to bits on Christmas Eve. Fuck, Li Ann, you _already_ thought I was dead for like a year and a half. And it wasn't so bad, right? You moved on."

"Not that bad?" Li Ann looked at him. "When I saw father's noodle factory explode with you still inside, a part of _me_ died. It hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before."

Li Ann's gaze was locked on Mac, who was as obviously discomfited now as Li Ann and Vic had been a moment ago. Vic shifted uneasily and thought about clearing his throat.

"Well, it's all water under the bridge now, right?" Mac said with an attempt at a flippant grin.

"I never stopped loving you," Li Ann said to Mac.

Vic suddenly felt a little light-headed, and his throat was dry. He took a drink of beer.

"That's not what you said before," Mac pointed out. He sounded a little hoarse himself.

"I thought I couldn't ever let myself be hurt like that again." Li Ann shook her head a little. "But that was ... that was the wrong choice." She put her bottle of beer down on the floor and went over to sit next to Mac on the couch. Mac eyed her warily, but he didn't try to move away. She took his sunglasses off him, and set them down on the coffee table.

It didn't surprise Vic when Li Ann leaned in to kiss Mac. Vic had seen it coming from the moment she put her bottle down.

It still hit him like a punch to the gut.

You think you're over someone, and then she comes to your place after a failed date and suddenly starts kissing your rival, who is also—let's face it—your best friend. And everything turns upside down.

Vic really, really wanted to leave, but it was _his_ living room.

Mac was kissing her back with enthusiasm. His hands were wrapped around her waist. Her hands were tangled in his hair.

Fuck it. Vic stood up and headed for his bedroom.

"Wait," Li Ann said, pulling away from Mac. "Vic. Don't go." Leaving Mac behind, she walked over to Vic and put her hands behind his neck. She leaned her forehead against Vic's and said softly, close to his lips, "I never stopped loving you either."

Vic felt like his heart had stopped.

She kissed him. He had _not_ seen that one coming.

Her lips were soft. The kiss was gentle and quick, and then she moved away again. Vic sat back down on his end of the couch because he felt like his knees might give way otherwise.

"I always felt like I was being ripped apart, choosing between you," she said. "Choosing neither of you seemed easier."

"Li Ann," Mac said, his voice barely audible, "I never stopped loving you either." 

"I know that," she said. "I'm going to kiss Vic again, okay?"

"Okay," Mac said.

Vic barely had time to think that maybe actually _he_ was the one she should've asked, when Li Ann was on his lap. Kissing him like she used to when they were first engaged, before Mac had come back from the dead and thrown Vic's life into chaos.

Vic closed his eyes, let himself be carried away with it. It occurred to him that this was her way of saying goodbye. Li Ann and Mac were going to get back together, like Mac had always wanted, like Vic had always feared.

Then there was a shift, something Vic couldn't quite place—maybe the creak of sofa cushions, the scuff of sock feet on carpet—and Vic opened his eyes and saw that Mac was kneeling in front of them. Mac was caressing Li Ann's hip while Li Ann bent to kiss Vic's collarbone.

"Um," Vic said.

"Shhh," Li Ann said. "It's all right."

_All right with who?_ Vic wondered, wildly. "No, seriously, it's okay. I can leave."

"If you want to," Li Ann said, but then she kissed him again on the mouth.

Mac, Vic saw, was sucking her fingers. Vic could feel the warmth of Mac's right knee pressed against the instep of Vic's left foot.

"Li Ann," Vic said, pulling away from her kisses just enough to speak, "is this ... is this what you want right now? Are we really doing this?" His voice cracked a little, and he could feel his neck flushing.

Mac had tugged up the bottom of Li Ann's shirt and was kissing the small of her back. He seemed to be paying no attention to Vic.

"Maybe," she said. She turned away from Vic, put a finger under Mac's chin to tilt up his face so she could kiss him again.

Vic could feel his cock swelling; as confused and disconcerted as he felt, he was also seriously turned on.

Li Ann's shirt was still half rucked up from where Mac had been kissing her. Vic slid his hands under her shirt and up her torso until he felt the bottom edge of her bra. Li Ann, still busy with Mac, murmured approval.

Mac climbed back up onto the couch, his lips locked with Li Ann's the whole time. Vic fumbled with the buttons of Li Ann's shirt, even as he wondered how far this could possibly go.

Vic was not a kinky kind of guy. And up until five minutes ago, he would've said the same of Li Ann. She'd certainly never said anything to him, during their time together, about wanting to try anything wild like this.

Yet here they were.

Once Vic had Li Ann's shirt undone, he reached around back to unclasp her bra. It was a little awkward since she was still kissing Mac. Vic's hand brushed something behind Li Ann's back and he realized it was Mac's arm. Vic jerked away from the touch like he'd been electrified. "Sorry," he muttered, but neither Mac nor Li Ann seemed to notice.

Then Li Ann broke away from Mac and turned to Vic. She kissed him once on the lips and then pulled back so that she could begin unbuttoning his shirt.

His lumberjack shirt, she used to call it with amusement—the thick red plaid. It was comfy and warm in the winter.

While Li Ann fiddled with Vic's buttons, Mac leaned in and kissed Vic.

On the mouth.

Vic had a moment of blind panic.

"Gah!" he yelped, frantically pulling away. With Li Ann still on his lap, he couldn't manage more than an awkward contortion. "What the _fuck_ , Mac?"

Mac looked startled, then confused. "What's wrong?"

Li Ann, meanwhile, slid off Vic's lap and found her feet. She looked from Vic to Mac and back again, tugging her shirt closed in front of her. "You know what?" she said in a suddenly-tight voice. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry. I—I think I should leave now."

"No!" Mac said, desperately. But Li Ann was already half-way to the door, grabbing her winter coat from the back of the easy chair.

"It's been a messed-up night," she said. "I have a lot on my mind. I shouldn't have taken it out on the two of you. I'm really sorry." She was putting on her boots as she spoke, and not making eye contact.

"Li Ann!" Mac begged. "Don't be sorry. Don't leave. _I'm_ sorry, I—" He eyed Vic wildly. "I won't do it again. I promise. Tell her not to leave!"

Vic's heart was still hammering from the moment when Mac had kissed him. He just shook his head; he couldn't speak.

Li Ann was out the door.

Mac punched the couch cushions with a wordless cry. Vic was half-afraid Mac would try to punch _him_ —was ready to block, to fight back—but instead Mac just sort of crumpled in on himself.

Vic felt, on the tip of his tongue, a smarmy, defensive remark about how Mac needed to relax about the fact that they'd just failed to get laid. But he stopped himself in time. Because he knew this wasn't about sex.

After another few seconds, Mac stood up. With a casual air that was entirely, obviously forced, he said "I guess I'd better go too."

"Yeah, well, good night then," Vic said, because pretending the whole thing had never happened was the best scenario he could possibly think of.

Moments later, Vic was alone.


	2. Bait

The next morning, Vic walked into the briefing room feeling pretty uneasy. After last night, he wasn't quite sure he was ready to face Li Ann and Mac. He wasn't even sure how he felt himself about what had happened—or what hadn't.

Li Ann was already there, chatting with Jackie. She didn't give any visible reaction to Vic's arrival.

"Hey," Vic said, taking his place at the table.

"Hi," Li Ann said. Nothing in her eyes gave away the fact that anything usual had happened last night, but he was pretty sure her manner towards him was a little more reserved than usual.

"Hi!" Jackie said with a bit more enthusiasm. "We were just, like, thinking about going to the firing range if the Director doesn't have a case for us to jump into today. Wanna come?"

Vic briefly met Li Ann's eye. She gave a little shrug, which Vic interpreted as a _why not?_. "Sure," he said. It seemed like Li Ann was on the same page as Vic—it would be best to act like last night had never happened.

The three of them chatted about guns for a few more minutes, and then Mac finally showed up. He was wearing one of his nicer suits, and he hadn't taken off his sunglasses. He sank into the empty chair—the one beside Vic—and massaged his temples. His complexion was a little pasty, and—Jesus, he smelled like booze. Vic felt a little knot of anxiety announce itself in his stomach. Apparently Mac was not full of equanimity regarding last night's events.

"Rough night, Mac?" Jackie asked, a bit sarcastically.

"A nine a.m. briefing on a _Saturday_ ," Mac protested feebly. "The Director is some kind of sadist."

"Well, we knew _that_ already," Vic pointed out.

"Good morning, people!" the Director called out cheerfully, descending from above. Reaching the table, she dropped the pile of dossiers she'd been carrying. Mac winced at the thump. Li Ann shot him a concerned look and Jackie rolled her eyes.

"We have a new case today," the Director said, sliding the dossiers along the table—one to each of them. "Men have been disappearing from the city's gay bars. Seven that we know of in the past six months."

"Sounds like a case for the police," Vic said.

"Well, it was," the Director agreed. "But then things got weird, and that's where we come in."

"That should be our motto," Jackie suggested.

"Turn to the first page in your dossiers," the Director said, ignoring Jackie. Li Ann and Vic obeyed immediately, Jackie followed suit after cracking both her gum and her knuckles, and Mac continued to slump miserably in his chair.

The first page had a glossy photo clipped to it—a blond man, probably in his mid-thirties, posing on a barstool with an umbrella drink in hand. He was dressed elegantly in a grey silk shirt and black slacks, and he was giving the photographer a big, dimpled grin. "Meet Bradley Black," the Director said. "Disappeared last October, last seen leaving a bar called the Eagle in the company of another, unidentified man. Bradley was the second of the disappearances." The first page of the dossier had all of that info in print, along with a few other details—Bradley's address, his sister's name and phone number, a sketchy description of the man he'd left the bar with. "Now turn to page two," the Director said. There was another photo—Bradley again, shovelling a snowy walkway in front of some institutional building, wearing a red plaid jacket and yellow earmuffs. "Meet Russell Smith," the Director said.

"It's not the same guy?" Li Ann said.

"Well," said the Director. "Therein lies the mystery. One of Bradley's neighbours spotted Russell last week, salting the ice in front of the Crossroads Church of Jesus Christ the Peoples' Saviour."

"Never heard of it," Vic said.

"It's new, apparently—an evangelical denomination that's been springing up just recently in suburbs and small cities," the Director explained. "In any case, Bradley's sister went to the church and met Russell, after the neighbour alerted her. The sister swears up and down that Russell _is_ her brother, but Russell claims to have no knowledge of Bradley Black. The police interviewed Russell at the sister's request, but there wasn't much they could do; you can't arrest a man for _looking_ like a missing person.

"So," the Director went on, looking around the table, "We're going to start with a two-pronged investigation. Jackie: you're going to find Jesus."

Jackie rolled her eyes. "I thought we were looking for Bradley."

"Ha ha," the Director said drily. "Show up for church tomorrow morning. See if you can strike up a conversation with Russell. Find out anything you can about him."

Vic was already starting to have a bad feeling about prong number two.

The Director smiled, which increased Vic's trepidation. "Mac," she said, "You're going to be bait."

"No," said Vic.

"Huh?" said Mac. Vic wondered if he'd even been following the briefing up until now.

"The men who disappeared were all in their twenties and thirties. There's very little linking them, otherwise—they come from different professions, different social classes, different parts of town." The Director riffled quickly through her copy of the dossier. "Four of them were white, one black, one Chinese, and one Métis. Some of them have families in Toronto, some had extensive social contacts, a couple of them were loners. But they were all regulars on the bar scene, well known for engaging in a series of one-night-stands. That's the only characteristic that they all seem to have in common—so that's where we need to start."

" _No_ ," Vic said again, more emphatically. "You can't use Mac as bait. It's—it's unethical."

The Director raised an eyebrow. "You should know better than to use the word _can't_ with me, Victor. Are you forgetting that the whole point of the Agency is that we don't have to follow the normal rules? And also that I own the four of you, body and soul? Besides, I've used Mac as bait before."

"Right, and that turned out well," Vic said. "He nearly married the target, she brought a nuclear hand-grenade to the wedding chapel, and we almost blew up Toronto."

The Director shrugged, unconcerned. "All's well that ends well. And I'm sure Mac won't make the same mistake twice."

"No getting married," Mac mumbled, proving that he had at least been following the conversation. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Come _on_ Mac," Vic prodded. "Stand up for yourself, man. Don't let her do this to you."

"What exactly _is_ the plan?" Li Ann asked. "Just so we're clear."

"Hopefully, Mac can establish himself as a target," the Director said. "Then, when person or persons unknown make their move, you and Vic will be there as backup."

"And by 'establish himself as a target'..." Li Ann prompted, with air quotes.

The Director rolled her eyes. "He'll need to have sex with some men, I would imagine."

"NO!" Vic shouted, leaning over the table. "That's not— you can't—"

"There's that word again." The Director waved a hand, as if literally brushing away Vic's concerns. "It's not like I'm asking _you_ to do it, Victor."

"Vic," Mac said, wincing. "It's okay, really. Please stop shouting."

"It's _not_ okay." Vic turned angrily to the Director. "Anyway, what even makes you think this will work? The guys who disappeared were regulars, you said. With a reputation for promiscuity. If that's what made them targets, then Mac can't just show up one night out of the blue and expect to attract the bad guys' attention."

"If there even are any bad guys," Jackie pointed out. "Maybe Bradley just decided one day he wanted to be somebody else. I mean, who _hasn't_ felt that way sometimes?"

"If it were just Bradley, then you'd have a point," the Director conceded. "But seven men in six months triggers alarm bells. You're right, though—we don't know _what's_ been happening. You and Mac both need to find out whatever you can. And as for Vic's objection—well." The Director turned her gaze on Mac, who seemed to squirm a little under it. "It's not exactly 'out of the blue,' is it, Mac?"

"You had Dobrinsky follow me, didn't you?" he asked in a defeated tone.

"Just to make sure you stayed safe." The Director wiggled her fingers dismissively. "Right then. You all have your orders. Shoo."

* * *

On the way out, Vic tried to subtly let Jackie get ahead of the rest of them so that he could talk with Mac and Li Ann, but instead, Jackie fell into step beside him while Mac strode on ahead.

"Looks like you're free till this evening," Jackie said. "Still want to go to the practice range?"

"Um," Vic said. "Sure. In a bit." He trotted ahead to catch up with Mac, abandoning subtlety. "Hey," he said, catching Mac's arm. "Wait up."

"What?" Mac snapped.

"We should talk. The three of us. Away from here." Originally, it was true, Vic had hoped they could all _avoid_ talking about last night, but that was before Mac showed up to work hung over—or possibly still drunk.

Weird that the Director hadn't said anything about Mac's state.

But then maybe his role in this mission was his punishment. Vic wouldn't put it past her.

Li Ann and Jackie caught up. "So," Jackie said, "Anybody wanna trade jobs with me?"

Mac gave a weak laugh. "A world of no."

"It's not funny, Mac," Vic said fiercely. "You've got to stand up to her this time. Ordering you to do this, it's ... it's _abusive_ is what it is."

"Tone down the white knight routine, Vic," Mac said, leaning against the concrete wall. "This is _far_ from the worst thing she's ever had me do."

Vic honestly was not sure what Mac was referring to—what had they ever done that could be worse than being ordered to have sex with a bunch of strange men? But he wasn't going to ask—anyway, not in front of Jackie.

"Jackie," Vic said, "How about you go on ahead. We'll meet you at the firing range in ten."

Jackie shrugged. "Okay. Later, alligator." She headed off, the tap-tap of her high-heeled shoes echoing in the stark corridor.

"We need to talk," Vic whispered. "The three of us."

"I need to go home and sleep," Mac countered. "I feel like shit."

"Mac, you don't have to do this," Vic insisted. "Just refuse. Li Ann and I will back you up. Just because you..." he lowered his voice even further, "you _kissed_ me last night doesn't mean you have to agree to this. It doesn't make you gay."

"Man, that last exchange with the Director really flew right over your head, didn't it?" Mac turned to Li Ann. " _You_ spell it out for him. The more I talk the more I feel like I'm gonna hurl."

Li Ann took a long, thoughtful look at both of her partners before she finally said, addressing Vic but with eyes on Mac, "Mac's not gay. He's bi."

"Um," said Vic. "What?"

"Bisexual," Li Ann clarified, enunciating clearly, as though Vic's problem had been with the jargon. "Sexually attracted to both women and men."

"And this is," Vic swallowed against a suddenly-dry throat, "Not actually news to you?"

Li Ann shrugged. "It was kind of an open secret back in Hong Kong."

"Yeah, well, seems like it was an _actual_ secret here in Canada," Vic said, sort of whisper-shouting now because he sure as hell didn't want to be overheard by random Agency passers-by. He turned back to Mac. "We've been working together for more than a year. Why didn't you say something?"

Mac winced. He was looking increasingly green. "Thought you might take it badly," he said. "Sure glad I was wrong about that."

"Mac," Li Ann interjected. "You look like you could use some fresh air."

"Yeah," Mac agreed. "Uh, yeah."

They made it out the front door of the Agency. Then Mac excused himself politely and went and puked in some nearby bushes. Li Ann and Vic stayed on the path, looking the other way.

"One of us is going to have to drive him home," Vic pointed out, sotto voce.

"Yep," Li Ann agreed, just as quiet. "Maybe that should be me, this time."

Vic was happy to yield that job to her. He seriously needed some time to process things before he was ready to be alone with Mac. But even after what he'd just learned, he wasn't ready to drop the issue of Mac as bait. 

"Okay," Vic said. "But you have to get him to see reason about the new case. Even _if_ he's attracted to men, that doesn't make it okay for the Director to use him like ... like a sex trade worker. I mean, that's not who we are. If it was straight men, she wouldn't ask _you_ to take a bunch of them home for anonymous sex."

Li Ann's jaw tightened, but all she said was, "No, if it was straight men she'd ask Jackie."

Vic didn't have a comeback. In all honesty, Li Ann was probably right about that.

That _still_ didn't make it okay.

Not for the first time, Vic wondered how the hell his life had come to this.

Mac returned to the path, looking more pale but less green. He was shivering, which was probably partly an after-effect of the puking, but also clearly due to the fact that all three of them were standing around in the sub-freezing weather in their indoor clothes.

Vic silently handed Mac a clean tissue, which Mac used to wipe his mouth.

"Right," Vic said. "See you tonight." And he went back inside without them.

* * *

A few hours at the firing range with Jackie had a calming effect on Vic. With their ear protectors on, conversation was basically impossible, which made Jackie's company a lot more pleasant overall.

So, Mac was bisexual. That was going to take some getting used to.

It put the kiss in a different perspective. Well, okay, maybe the _same_ perspective, only more so, because it was pretty clear where things last night had been headed before Vic had his little freak-out.

And if Li Ann knew that Mac was bi, then maybe she'd been considerably less shocked than Vic had been when Mac had kissed him.

Li Ann had been the one to stop things, though, Vic remembered. As soon as Vic had reacted to Mac's kiss, Li Ann had apologized and left.

Okay. Not one of the three of them had really had a handle on what happened last night.

So it was good that it had stopped when it did.

Only...

Only what?

Only having Li Ann on his lap, in his arms, kissing him, was the nicest feeling Vic had had in ages. Even considering how off-balance he'd been feeling. Even considering that she'd just kissed Mac.

"VIC!" Jackie shouted. "Aim for the CENTRE of the target!" She gave him a cross-eyed look, then returned her attention to her own shooting practice.

Vic pushed the button to bring his paper target forward and set up a fresh one. It was true; his shots were all over the place today.

Mac had kissed him.

Mac was under orders to go pick up at a gay bar tonight.

This seemed to be bothering Vic a whole lot more than it was bothering Mac.

Vic thought back to Mac's last words with the Director at the briefing—the exchange which had, as Mac said, gone over Vic's head at the time.

If Vic was understanding correctly now, Mac had actually been to a gay bar in Toronto before. Been to a bar ... and picked up? Gone home with someone? It wasn't exactly clear. And Dobrinsky had kept tabs on him. And the Director knew everything.

So maybe as far as the Director saw it, she was just asking Mac to mix business and pleasure.

Vic still had a bad, bad feeling about this.


	3. Kung Fu Night

Li Ann picked Vic up at his place at 9 p.m., in the florist's van with the listening equipment.

"How was the firing range?" she asked him when he climbed into the front seat.

"Fine," Vic said. "How was Mac?"

Li Ann gave a quick shrug. "We didn't talk about it."

"What do you mean, you didn't talk about it?"

Li Ann checked her blind spot and pulled out into traffic. "His exact words were: _I don't want to talk about it_."

Vic cleared his throat. "Um. I think we should talk about it."

"Or not," Li Ann said. "The sooner we put it behind us, the sooner things can go back to the way they were."

"The way things were..." Vic tapped his fingers absently against the cold passenger-side window. "What you said last night. About how you never stopped loving either one of us."

Li Ann frowned. "That was a mistake, Vic. I shouldn't have said it."

Vic noticed that she didn't _deny_ it. "Look," he said. "I never stopped loving you, either. Only, I thought I wasn't _in_ love with you anymore. Until last night. When you kissed me."

Li Ann stayed quiet for a while. Vic watched her face, trying to guess her feelings, but her expression remained almost unsettlingly neutral. Just when he started to wonder if she was going to say anything at all, she finally said, "You're right. We should talk about this. But not now. We have work to do."

Vic nodded. She was right about that.

* * *

Li Ann parked the van a few doors down from the Eagle. Not all of the men had disappeared from the same bar, but they'd decided to start with the one where Bradley Black had vanished. They got into the back of the van and turned on the equipment. A few minutes later, they heard from Mac.

"Hey there guys. You got me?" he asked. His voice came through only slightly muffled. The wire was sewn into the fabric of his suit jacket; equipment strapped to his chest in the normal way would be impractical, given where this night was headed.

"Loud and clear," Li Ann said into the mic on their end.

"Right," Mac said. "I'm going in."

Once he left his car, Vic and Li Ann didn't have any way to talk to him; an ear piece would have been too conspicuous.

There was a rush of sound when Mac walked into the bar. Voices, music. Li Ann fiddled with the levels on their sound system, and managed to damp down the background noise a bit. Vic was impressed at how good the equipment was; it was miles beyond anything he'd had access to when he was with the Toronto PD.

They heard Mac ordering a gin and tonic. Vic hoped he was planning to nurse that drink for a while, considering the state he'd been in this morning, and the fact that he was going to need to drive himself home later.

"Hey!" said somebody near Mac. "Mike, right? How are you doing?"

"Mac," Mac corrected the mystery guy. The mystery guy at the gay bar, who apparently more-or-less already knew Mac by name?

"Right," said the other guy. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Mac said.

In the van, Vic whispered to Li Ann, "Who is that guy?"

She shrugged, and put her finger to her lips. They weren't transmitting, so there was no danger of being overheard, but it was true that if they got too chatty they might miss something. 

"You're looking hot tonight, Mac," the other guy was saying.

"Look, Tim," Mac said, "It was great, really it was, but I don't do second dates. No offense."

Vic felt almost dizzy for a moment. Mac had had a one night stand with this guy. There was no other possible way to parse that exchange. He glanced over at Li Ann. She was frowning, slightly.

"Your loss," Tim said, sounding pretty casual about it. There was a rustling sound—probably Tim standing up and walking away.

"Right," said Mac, very quietly—obviously pitched so that only Vic and Li Ann could hear him. "That was awkward. Now to find some fresh meat."

"Fresh meat?" Vic echoed. "What the _hell_ , Mac?"

"That's the mission," Li Ann reminded him. "He's got to mimic the behaviour of the guys who disappeared."

"I _hate_ this mission," Vic said. "I've mentioned that, right?"

"A few times," Li Ann said, drily. "Look, I don't love it either. But our job here is to back Mac up."

"And who was this Tim guy?" Vic said. "What are the odds that the first guy Mac sees when he walks through the door is somebody he's already slept with?"

"Depends," Li Ann said.

"On?"

"On how many guys he's slept with."

Vic groaned. "How can you be so blasé about this, Li Ann?"

"I'm not," she said. "This is weird for me too, Vic. I knew that he'd been with guys in Hong Kong, and there was Michael, of course, but we never really talked about it."

" _Michael_?" Vic choked out.

Li Ann gave him a puzzled look. "You hadn't guessed?"

"No!"

She grimaced. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Yes, you should have." Vic gritted his teeth. "Jesus. He tried to _kill_ him."

"Michael was a sociopath," Li Ann pointed out. "And he's dead. Could we please get back to work?" Li Ann had gone very stiff, Vic noticed. This conversation was disturbing her. And, well, okay—no wonder. She'd had complicated feelings for Michael too, and she was the one who'd finally killed him.

Vic had no idea how she felt about that.

But if Mac and Michael had been lovers—man, that was going to take some thinking about.

In the bar, Mac was chatting with a man named Chris. Mac was playing up his cover story that he was a personal trainer, making speculative comments about Chris's workout routine. From the sound of it, he was evaluating Chris's biceps in a hands-on kind of way.

Vic really didn't want to listen to this.

Wow did he ever hate this mission.

It wasn't long before Mac and Chris were leaving the bar together. Vic and Li Ann followed in the van. It was an easy tail, since not only was there a tracer in Mac's car, but they also could hear Chris giving him directions to his place over the wire.

Chris lived in a condo building on Queen Street West. Li Ann parked the van across the street.

Then they got to listen to Mac and Chris having sex.

Mac must have dropped his jacket on the floor of the bedroom. Assuming they were _in_ a bedroom—that much wasn't clear. The sound quality was great, though, much better than it had been in the bar with all the background noise.

"Um, could you turn it down a bit?" Vic asked Li Ann. "I think at this point we can be pretty sure Chris isn't the kidnapper."

"Right," Li Ann said, fumbling with the controls. She seemed about as flustered as Vic was, which was sort of a small comfort. "Should I turn it off?"

"No," Vic said, even though he really wanted to say yes. "What if something happens? The Director would kill us."

The sex went on for quite a while. There was panting, and murmured obscenities. A lot of "Yeah, right there, that's it," and "Don't stop, oh, fuck, that's so good, yeah, keep doing that."

Vic felt like his face was burning up. He definitely couldn't look Li Ann in the eye. He focused on the sleek dials and knobs of the audio equipment.

He tried not to notice that he was getting hard.

Li Ann cleared her throat. "Next time I'll bring a pack of cards," she said. Her voice sounded a bit strained.

"Good idea," Vic said, struggling to pitch his own voice at a normal level. "We can play Crazy Eights."

After what seemed like an eternity, they heard Mac leaving Chris's building.

"You two still out there?" Mac asked under his breath. Vic peeked through the curtain that divided the back of the van from the cab, and saw Mac standing on the sidewalk, waving. "Meet you back at Vic's place," he said, and got into his car.

* * *

By the time Vic and Li Ann made it up to Vic's apartment, Mac had already picked the lock, let himself in, and ... made microwave popcorn.

"Mac?" Vic said. "It's after midnight. What are you doing in my apartment?"

"We had plans, right?" Mac waved a VHS cassette. "I got _Snake in the Eagle's Shadow_. Possibly the greatest Kung Fu movie ever made. You're going to love it."

Vic and Li Ann exchanged a look. Actually it was more of a Look.

"Are you okay, Mac?" Li Ann asked, her tone a bit overly-gentle.

"The job went fine," Mac said. "I'm pretty sure Chris isn't our guy, but hey, it was only the first night. I'll keep fishing. In terms of things I've had to do for the Director, that didn't suck. Remember the psychotic bee keepers?"

Vic and Li Ann both reflexively shuddered.

"It's Saturday night," Mac went on. "And we _said_ we were going to watch a Kung Fu flick."

They had, Vic remembered. Or at least, Mac had suggested it and Vic and Li Ann hadn't said no.

But that was before all the kissing.

The kissing that they were all, apparently, quite determinedly not talking about.

"Okay," Vic finally conceded. "I'll get us some beers."

By the time he got back from the kitchen, Mac and Li Ann were settled at opposite ends of the couch. Vic's choices were to squish in between them, or to take the armchair.

He took the armchair.

The movie was, in fact, a whole lot of fun. Vic had to admit he was enjoying himself, and it was almost possible to forget what had happened last night, and what had happened earlier tonight.

Almost.

Two-thirds of the way through the movie, Vic noticed that Mac had gotten quiet. He glanced over and saw that Mac was asleep, curled up with his head on the arm of the couch and his feet not _quite_ touching Li Ann's legs.

Li Ann caught Vic's eye. "Should we wake him?" she whispered.

Vic shook his head. "He had a rough day, I guess," he whispered back. "He can crash on my couch. Do you still want to finish the movie?"

"I'd rather go home and sleep," Li Ann admitted.

Vic stopped the movie. Li Ann stood up, stretched, and went to put her coat on. Vic followed her to the door.

"Good night," he whispered.

"Good night," she returned, moving a little closer to him.

They both hesitated there for a moment, just on the very edge of each others' personal space.

And then they were kissing.

Vic's heart was pounding so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Her lips were soft and warm. He could feel her hands clasped at the small of his back. He raised a hand to the nape of her neck, and felt her soft hair tickle his fingers.

When they broke apart, Vic had goose-bumps on his arms. They looked at each other, wide-eyed.

"We really need to talk," he whispered.

"Yeah," she agreed. "But not tonight." She touched his cheek gently with her fingertips, giving him a thoughtful look—and then she turned, abruptly, and left.

Vic stood there for a good five minutes after she left, his forehead pressed against the closed door, his mind reeling.

They kissed. They _kissed_. They kissed!

All of the feelings he'd tucked away after she broke off their engagement were back in full force, like they'd never left. He wanted to run after her and ask her to stay. Ask her into his bed. He wanted to bury his face between her breasts and breathe in her scent and feel her strong legs wrapped around his waist. To make love.

He wanted to love her. To marry her. To kiss her every morning, and make her coffee, and read the paper together.

"Gaaaaah," Vic moaned, softly.

He glanced over towards the couch. There was Mac, still asleep.

If Mac hadn't come back from the dead, Vic and Li Ann would probably be married now. Li Ann had always claimed that the break-up wasn't really about Mac, but Vic had never believed that for a second. He'd resented Mac like crazy at first—told himself he _hated_ him, that he wished he'd stayed dead—but that all seemed pretty distant now.

All Vic had to do was think back to the moment when he'd realized Mac and Michael hadn't followed the rest of them out of the abandoned mill, and he felt those icy hands of fear gripping his heart, and he knew how much things had changed. Mac was important to him now. Vic _cared_ about Mac. He would run into a building that was about to blow sky high to drag Mac's ass to safety.

That didn't change the fact that watching Li Ann kiss Mac last night had felt like a punch to Vic's gut.

And it didn't change the panicky feeling Vic got when he remembered how Mac had kissed _him_.

Vic shook his head. This was all too messy and complicated to think about now. 

He found a spare blanket and draped it over Mac, then killed the lights and went to bed.

* * *

Vic woke from a deep sleep to the sound of a shout. He was on his feet with his gun in his hand before he'd formed his first conscious thought, which was that the shout had come from the living room and it had sounded like Mac.

Vic crept quickly through the apartment, took cover behind the door frame, and then in one quick motion stepped into the living room, pointing his gun. "Freeze!" he yelled.

Unfortunately, since the room was pretty much pitch black, his eyes didn't manage to resolve the movement they caught before he felt his hand going numb from an impact and the gun flying from his grasp.

He reacted instinctively, ducking and shoving towards his attacker with his shoulder. He caught whoever it was square in the chest and slammed them against the wall.

"Urgh," the other guy grunted, and Vic was pretty sure it was Mac.

"Mac?" Vic said.

"Vic!" Mac gasped. "What the hell is going on?"

"You tell me," Vic said, letting go of Mac and reaching over to flick on the lights. "I heard shouting. Thought someone had broken in and attacked you."

Mac squinted against the sudden glare. He had a hand to his ribs, and he seemed a bit disoriented. "I thought I was ... I don't know. Fuck." He shook his head, as if to clear it. " _Ow_ , Vic. Way to wake a guy up." He limped back over to the couch, and flopped down.

"Sorry." Vic palmed his forehead, and tried to gather his wits. He went and retrieved his gun, checked the safety, and set it aside. "But seriously, what was with all the shouting?"

Mac shrugged. "Just a nightmare."

Vic gave him a quizzical look. "Oh. Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope." Mac closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch. " _Shit_ you hit hard," he added.

"Um," Vic said awkwardly, "Are you okay? I mean, I didn't break anything, did I?"

Mac took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it whoosh out. "Nah," he said. "Just bruised." He opened his eyes again. "Why was I sleeping on your couch?"

"You passed out before the movie finished." Vic hesitated, considering whether to head back to bed. But no—he was too keyed up to go right back to sleep, and he and Mac had some serious unresolved issues to get out of the way. No time like the present, right?

So Vic sat down at the other end of the couch.

"Look," he said, and stopped. He cleared his throat. Mac looked curiously at him. Vic felt himself, annoyingly, blushing. "You have to promise not to kiss me again," he said.

"Okay," Mac said readily. "I promise. I didn't mean to freak you out. I'm sorry."

"No hard feelings," Vic assured him. "I just ... I don't swing that way." Vic's neck felt hot. This conversation was making him edgy. Well, that and coming down off of the adrenaline from the rude awakening and brief fight.

"Yeah," Mac said quietly. "Um. How are you doing with the fact that I _do_?" He gave Vic a worried look. "Have you still got my back?"

"Obviously," Vic said. "I just crashed in here in my pyjamas to save you from ninjas, didn't I?"

"There weren't any ninjas," Mac pointed out.

"Well, there could've been."

Mac rewarded him with a quick grin. But then he went back to looking worried. "Seriously, is it going to be an issue if, like, I happen to touch you? I don't wanna start walking on eggshells around you."

"Jesus, what kind of homophobic asshole do you think I am?" Vic said. "Okay, I admit, I'm not really _comfortable_ about this. I've never known anyone who was gay before."

Mac gave a disbelieving snort. "Murphy? Camier? Ring any bells?"

Vic had to concede that one. "Well, I don't really think of them as _people_ ," he murmured.

"Nathan," Mac added.

"Huh?" Vic said. He frowned at Mac, trying to gauge whether he was serious. "Nooo."

"Yeesss," Mac corrected him. "Also you're his one true love. Did you actually not pick up on that?"

"Well, yeah," Vic admitted. "But I thought it was just an Illuminati thing."

"Wow," Mac said. "You are unbelievably dense." But he said it sort of affectionately.

"So are you trying to tell me every guy at the Agency is gay but me?" Vic asked, letting his irritation show.

"No," Mac snapped back. "I already told you, _I'm_ not gay. I'm bi."

"Right," Vic said. "Okay. Point taken. Like I said, this is all pretty new to me. And you have to admit, this mission was a hell of a way for me to find out."

"The wire," Mac said, and winced. "I should've left my jacket in the other room."

"No you shouldn't have, idiot," Vic said quickly. "Then how would we have known if Chris chloroformed you in the afterglow?"

"Chris was okay," Mac said. "Pretty good in bed for an accountant. Definitely not kidnapper material."

"Yeah, well," Vic muttered. "You never know." Then he looked at Mac. "It's not too late for you to back out of this mission. If you just _refuse_ to be bait, what's the Director gonna do? Li Ann and I will back you up. And this is a crazy plan, anyway. We'd be better off canvassing the guys at the bars. Try to put together a composite sketch of the man the missing guys were last seen with. Go hunting for security footage."

"The regular police already tried all that," Mac reminded him. "And you have no _idea_ what the Director's capable of."

"I just can't believe you'd let her _do_ this to you," Vic said.

"I keep telling you," Mac said, starting to sound annoyed again, "it's not a big deal. In fact, frankly, if we _didn't_ have this mission, I might've gone to the Eagle tonight to see if I could score _anyway_."

"That's not the point," Vic said.

"How is it not?" Mac shot back. "You wouldn't be freaking out like this if the Director had me going to bed with a bunch of _women_ , would you?"

"Actually, yeah," Vic said, "I would. That's not a part of yourself you should have to sacrifice for the job. Sex should be ... it should be _sacred_. It should be something you only share with somebody you totally trust. Somebody you—well, maybe you don't have to be in _love_ , but you should at least _care_ about them."

Mac blinked at him. "Vic," he said. "You are incredibly naïve. It's sort of sweet, in a goofy kind of way. But you should shut the fuck up about this, because you have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Vic countered. "So, what, sex is just some meaningless physical thing to you? A means to an end?"

"Yeah," Mac shot back, glaring at Vic. "It can be. When it needs to be."

Vic shook his head. "I don't buy that. I think this mission is fucking you up, and you're going along with it because—I don't know. Maybe you think you deserve it."

It was a shot in the dark, but the quick panicky look in Mac's eyes before they narrowed in anger made Vic think that maybe he was onto something. "You know fuck-all about me," Mac snapped. "And for your information, I had a great time with Chris."

"Yeah?" Vic said, softly, because he _didn't_ want this to be a fight. "Is that why you woke up screaming from a nightmare three hours later?"

A shock went through Mac almost as though Vic had slapped him. He didn't move or even breathe for a good few seconds. "Fuck off," he said finally, but in a shaky voice. "It wasn't about that. I was dreaming about Michael."

_Michael_. Oh, hell.

Vic cleared his throat. "Li Ann told me tonight that you and Michael were lovers," he said quietly. "She seemed to think I might've already guessed, but I hadn't. I thought you and Michael hated each other."

Mac gave a quick, unfunny laugh. "Yeah, well, love, hate, they're not exactly mutually exclusive."

"Beg to differ," Vic said.

Mac shrugged off Vic's objection. "You didn't really know Michael."

"No," Vic agreed. "Not like you did, obviously." Vic thought back to the events of December, viewed through the filter of this new information. "When Michael came back, you were the only one who refused to trust him. He pulled the wool over the rest of our eyes, even Li Ann."

"I trusted him," Mac said, barely audible.

"Huh?" said Vic.

"At the very end. Remember? You were on your way out of the building. There was still a shooter alive. He came up behind me, would've killed me if Michael hadn't moved fast and shot him first." Mac swallowed, and closed his eyes. "I finally realized—Michael had changed. He was looking out for me. He cared about me. He wanted to be one of the good guys. So I _told_ him, I told him I trusted him. I let my guard down." Mac opened his eyes again, and gave Vic a hollow look. "Then he explained that that was the moment he'd been waiting for. I had to _trust_ him, so that he could betray me. And that's when he knocked me out and left me to die."

"Jesus," Vic breathed. "That's fucked up."

Mac just shrugged, staring blankly into the distance. Vic didn't really want to imagine where Mac's thoughts were going.

Vic reached over and put a hand on Mac's shoulder.

Mac shuddered once in response, and then reached up with his opposite hand and put it over Vic's.

Vic swallowed. Here it was—the test of whether he could casually touch his openly-gay partner without freaking out.

Except actually this was beyond 'casual', already. Mac's fingers had closed around Vic's. Mac was still staring at nothing, and Vic guessed that maybe in Mac's head right now he was back in that warehouse.

"Thanks," Mac said abruptly, still not looking at Vic.

"Um, for what?" Vic said. It was actually kind of hard to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Mac's hand on his.

It was totally illogical that touching Mac would feel physically different now that he knew Mac was gay. Vic knew that. But it _did_ feel different. Vic had never been so completely fucking _aware_ of a touch before. Mac's shoulder was warm and firm under Vic's hand. Mac's hand felt strong around Vic's, but also clammy. And he could feel Mac trembling.

"For running back in there and saving my life," Mac said. "You and Li Ann. You could've both been killed. Another ten seconds...."

"Not worth thinking about," Vic said firmly. "We do stuff like that all the time."

Mac seemed to relax a bit. "Sure," he said. "I guess we do." He let go of Vic's hand; Vic gave Mac's shoulder a quick squeeze and then stood up.

"We should get back to sleep," he said. "The Director wants us back at the Agency at noon, remember."

Mac stood up too. "I should get back to my place."

"You're welcome to crash here till morning if you want," Vic offered. "Go home and shower in the morning, or whatever."

"Thanks, but—" Mac tilted his head to the right, then left, shrugging his shoulders in turn, "I get a crick in my neck sleeping on your couch."

"Sure," Vic said. "Okay. See you at the Agency, then."

Vic followed Mac to the door, just because he'd need to lock it when Mac left. Mac pulled on his boots and coat and then turned to Vic, and suddenly Vic flashed back to earlier in the evening, standing just like this with Li Ann.

Mac didn't know about that kiss.

"G'night," said Mac, and he moved closer to Vic.

Vic had a sudden panicky impression that _they_ were about to kiss.

And an even more panicky insight that if Mac tried to kiss him, Vic might not stop him.

But no. It was a hug. A firm, manly hug, with mutual back-thumping. And then Mac headed out with a casual wave, and Vic was leaning against the closed door, heart pounding, for the second time that night.

Finding out that Mac was gay was messing with Vic's head.


	4. Not like Oil and Water

Sunday night, Li Ann really did bring a pack of cards to their stakeout. She and Vic played Crazy Eights while Mac fucked a professional dog walker named Charlie in a basement apartment on Spadina.

Vic had briefly held out hope, earlier in the day, that this mission might come to a quick end. Jackie had made significant progress at the church. Russell had been there, and at coffee hour after the service she had managed to have a good long conversation with him. He'd been evasive about any autobiographical details going back farther than two months, but he'd talked at length about his wonderful new relationship with Jesus, about the warmth and strength of the church community, and about how much God hated fags.

"And there was something ... _off_ about him," Jackie had added. "Other than his fashion choices, which—hello? A red plaid shirt, grey slacks, black shoes, and _blue_ socks? This guy _needs_ divine intervention. But anyway. The whole time he was going on and on—talking about being happy at the church, talking about being pissed off at the gays, whatever—his face was just, like, _blank_. He had a really, whaddaya call it, a fat asshat."

"A flat affect?" the Director had supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that thing."

But in the end, Jackie didn't really have anything concrete. They all agreed that Bradley Black's head had been seriously messed with, but they didn't know _how_ , or by whom.

So Jackie was under orders to get closer to Russell. And Mac was under orders to keep trolling the gay bars.

Now, in the listening van, Vic played a seven of clubs on top of Li Ann's two of clubs. "We should talk about last night," he said.

Li Ann drew three cards, and then played the four of clubs. "Which part of last night?" she asked, cautiously.

In the background, Charlie the dog walker was groaning with pleasure. Vic felt a frisson of excitement, an instinctive reaction to the sound, but it was easy to tamp that feeling down with a wave of embarrassment. "The good night kiss," Vic clarified. "We said we'd talk."

"Right," Li Ann agreed, staring at the cards in her hand. "Do you think now's the time?"

"We're both here. It's private. We don't really have anything else to do," Vic said.

"Okay." Li Ann put down her cards, reluctantly. "I'll be honest, Vic, I don't really know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking that you're still in love with me," Vic said.

Li Ann nodded, slowly. "Yeah."

"And Mac?"

"Him, too," she said softly.

Over the wire, Mac said in a husky voice, "Come here, you sexy thing, I want to taste you."

Li Ann winced.

"He has to do this," Vic reminded her. "The Director's making him."

"I know," Li Ann said. "But it's hard to listen to. Remember, we were lovers in Hong Kong."

"That's not something I'm likely to forget," Vic said, but with a slightly abashed realization that listening to this stuff might actually be harder for Li Ann than it was for him. But that didn't stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth: "So are you going to choose him this time?"

Li Ann gave him a strange look. Vic realized that his heartbeat had suddenly ramped up like crazy; this was _important_. He was so afraid of what she'd say next. He braced for the feeling of getting his heart torn to shreds again.

"I told you," Li Ann said. "I'm not going to choose either one of you. I _can't_."

"Then what are you going to do?" Vic asked, his voice edging into roughness. "Keep stringing us both along? I don't know how much more of this I can take, Li Ann. I thought we were done with this."

"The other night," Li Ann said softly, "I had this crazy thought. The two of you were getting along so well. And we were joking about getting old together, all three of us. And then I thought ... what if it wasn't a joke?" She paused, and then added in a soft, almost regretful tone, "I knew I could never choose between the two of you. But what if I could have you both?"

Vic felt, for a moment, utterly disoriented.

He had _not_ seen that coming.

Except—hadn't he? When Li Ann had been on Vic's lap, kissing him, and Mac had started kissing her—when Mac had kissed _Vic_ —if they hadn't stopped —

But that had been about sex, or at least that's what it had felt like. And right now, Vic understood, Li Ann was talking about a lot more than that.

"Um," he stammered. "I—"

"It would never work," Li Ann interrupted him. "I know. You and Mac are too much like oil and water. I'm sorry I brought all this up. We're a great team, and you guys are my best friends in the world, and I really hope I haven't ruined everything."

"You haven't," Vic assured her quickly. And then, with a feeling like jumping over an 8-foot wall without knowing what was on the other side, he added "And who says it would never work?"

Li Ann startled. "...Vic?" she said. "What do you mean?"

"Mac and I are not oil and water," he said. "We get along. We snark at each other, sure, it's kind of our thing. But that hasn't been serious, not for a long time. I _like_ the guy." Even if the revelation of Mac's sexuality was still making Vic uncomfortable. But that wasn't an issue here; they were talking about Li Ann being with both Mac and Vic, in turns—they weren't talking about Vic being with Mac.

Mac, who was apparently having an orgasm at this very moment.

Vic's cock strained against his jeans. Vic took a deep breath. This mission was messing with his head.

"Okay," Li Ann said, but faintly. She was hearing the same thing Vic was hearing, of course. "Wow. Um, maybe we should all talk. All three of us. But ... I think we should wait until this case is over. Mac's got enough to deal with right now."

"Right," Vic agreed around the lump in his own throat. "Better to wait."

* * *

Vic was a bit surprised when, upon emerging from Charlie the dog walker's apartment, Mac once against whispered into the wire, "See you guys back at Vic's place." 

"What's he up to?" Vic wondered. "It's one in the morning. We can debrief tomorrow."

Li Ann shrugged. "Maybe there was something we couldn't hear over the wire."

But when Vic opened the door to his apartment, and smelled the microwave popcorn, he figured out what was up.

Though he still wasn't sure exactly _why_.

" _A Touch of Zen_. 1971. Classic Hong Kong cinema. You're going to love it," Mac said, waving a VHS cassette at Vic and Li Ann before popping it into Vic's VCR.

"Isn't it a bit late for this?" Li Ann said dubiously. "We have work again tomorrow."

"It's never too late for kung fu," Mac said, grinning and doing a flappy martial arts thing with his hands. He seemed a little manic. "Come on, don't be a spoilsport."

Li Ann met Vic's eyes, and once again he found himself exchanging a capital-L Look with her.

"Sure," Vic said. "Why not? I'm out of beer, though. I've got Coke."

"Wow, Vic, still got some contacts over in Vice?" Mac asked. "Okay. Just one line, though, it's a work night." At Li Ann and Vic's shocked expressions, he threw up his hands. "Joking! Jeez, you guys. I'll have tea, if you've got any."

When they settled down to watch the movie, they all took the same places as before—Mac and Li Ann on opposite ends of the couch, and Vic on the easy chair.

This time, Mac fell asleep after just half an hour.

Vic stopped the movie, and wondered if he should wake Mac up and send him home. Last night Mac had complained about the discomfort of sleeping on the couch.

He voiced this idea to Li Ann, and she frowned thoughtfully. "He could have gone straight home," she pointed out. "He came here instead."

"You think, what," Vic said, "he didn't want to be alone?"

"The case could be bothering him more than he admits," Li Ann suggested.

"I'm pretty sure it is," Vic said, relieved that he finally wasn't the only one who saw this. "Last night he had a nightmare about Michael. Bad enough to wake _both_ of us up."

"That doesn't have to have anything to do with the case," Li Ann pointed out. "I ... I still dream about Michael sometimes, too."

"Fuck," Vic said. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

Vic followed her to the door of his apartment, and once again, just before she left, they had a moment of standing close together, hesitating on the edge of a kiss.

This time, though, the hesitation was shorter, and the kiss was longer.

"Stay," Vic said, huskily, when they broke apart. "We—it's like you said. We can do this. Mac—you can talk to him about it. The two of you, you can figure something out too. Li Ann, I want you so bad right now."

Li Ann swallowed. "Me too, Vic. But it's too soon. If we rush this, somebody's going to get hurt." Her eyes flicked momentarily back towards Mac's sleeping form. "Good night, Vic."

So Vic found himself once again leaning against his recently-closed apartment door, suppressing a moan.

* * *

Déjà vu. At three in the morning, Vic was awakened by a shout.

This time he didn't grab his gun, though he did approach the living room cautiously—you can never be too careful, when you work for a place like the Agency.

Vic had taken the precaution this time of leaving a light on in the kitchen, so the living room wasn't totally dark. Vic could tell at first glance that there was no intruder, and that Mac was thrashing on the floor next to the couch, tangled up in the blanket Vic had draped over him earlier.

"Jesus, Mac," Vic muttered, and went over to him. It looked like Mac was still asleep, but that had to be some kind of terrifying dream. "Mac!" Vic said sharply, "Wake up!" When there was no response, Vic crouched down and shook Mac's shoulder. "Wake up, Mac!" he repeated.

Mac awoke with a start, came instantly to his feet, and lashed out with a chopping blow—which Vic evaded easily, having more or less expected something like that. His legs still tangled in the blanket, Mac overbalanced and pitched forward with a yelp.

Vic caught him.

"Easy," Vic said, guiding Mac back to the couch and sitting down next to him. "It's just me. You fell asleep during the movie again."

Mac looked disoriented and tousled. A few curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was still breathing hard. He looked at Vic for a long moment, as though trying to remember who he was, then reached up to rub his neck. "Jesus," he said. "That couch."

"You're the one who keeps falling asleep on it," Vic said, a bit defensively on behalf of his couch. But then, feeling a stab of compassion towards Mac considering what the mission was putting him through—and, okay, to be perfectly honest, a little bit of guilt over kissing Li Ann behind Mac's back—he added, "If you want, you can sleep on my bed for the rest of the night."

Mac looked slightly baffled. "Seriously?" he said.

"Sure," Vic said, before he could change his mind. Mac was going through a lot. Vic could be magnanimous for once.

"Wow," Mac said, and some of the tension from his nightmare seemed to drain away from him. "Thanks. I could really use the company. I promise I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable."

"Uh." Vic's brain stuttered over the interpretation of what Mac had just said. "Did you think I meant— _both_ of us in my bed?"

Mac paled. "That's not what you meant?"

"I was gonna take the couch," Vic clarified.

Mac looked appalled. "Shit," he said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—um—I just thought—crap."

"It's okay!" Vic said, his words tumbling over themselves as badly as Mac's had. Vic wasn't sure which of them was the more embarrassed. "Honest mistake! Anybody could've made it!"

"I'll just go home," Mac said. He actually seemed to be blushing. He stood up.

"Wait!" Vic said, standing up too. He grabbed Mac's arm, and then just as quickly let go. He didn't know what to do with his hands. " _Shit_ ," he said. "I'm an idiot, okay? Don't go."

Mac gave him a funny look, which wasn't surprising since at this point Vic was pretty much flailing.

"My bed's plenty big enough for both of us," Vic said.

_I could really use the company,_ Mac had said.

If that wasn't a cry for help, Vic didn't know what was.

"Are you sure?" Mac said. He seemed a bit nervous.

"Yeah. Look, man. It's just sleeping in the same bed," Vic pointed out. "Not a big deal."

Except _that_ , Vic knew, was a lie. It was a big deal, and it was all tied up with the conversation he'd had with Li Ann earlier, and the kisses.

And the fact that Mac, whether he'd admit to it or not, was clearly not in a good state. Coming to work drunk, falling asleep on Vic's couch two nights in row, the nightmares—fuck, Mac was messed up. And if sleeping next to Vic might help a bit, well, it was worth a try.

Mac was still wearing his clothes from the night's mission—a tight black t-shirt and form-fitting jeans. He didn't make any move to undress before climbing into Vic's bed, for which Vic was grateful.

Vic was already in his pyjamas.

Lying in bed with the lights off, Vic was super-aware of Mac's presence. His breathing.

He was also aware that Mac was keeping as far to the other side of the bed as he could without falling off. "You don't have to cling to the side of the mattress," Vic muttered. "I promise I won't freak out if our elbows touch. Just—no cuddling."

"Got it," Mac said. The mattress creaked as Mac shifted over. There were still a few clear inches between them. "G'night," Mac said, and closed his eyes.

"Good night," Vic echoed, wondering whether he'd actually gone insane.

Vic didn't expect to fall asleep easily, not with the disconcerting strangeness of Mac in his bed. But he must have been pretty tired, because the next thing he knew he was waking up out of a deep sleep.

It was dark, and there was shouting.

Luckily Vic remembered right away who was in bed with him, so he just rolled away from Mac's flailing limbs and called out a sharp "Mac! Wake up!" It didn't work any more than it had earlier. So instead Vic grabbed Mac around the arms—to stop him from trying to punch Vic—and said, firmly but more gently, "Mac, wake up, you're dreaming."

Mac's eyes popped open, and he said something incoherent—possibly in Chinese. A shudder passed through his whole body. Then his eyes closed again, he relaxed, and his head slumped forward to tuck in against Vic's neck.

"Hey," Vic protested in a strained voice. "I said no cuddling."

But Mac seemed to be asleep again already.

Actually, it wasn't clear that he'd ever exactly woken up.

And since Vic had wrapped his arms around Mac to stop his thrashing, now one of Vic's arms was tucked under Mac's neck, while the other one was slung over Mac's chest.

In fact, from a technical standpoint, one could say that _Vic_ was cuddling _Mac_.

Vic tried to ease his arm out from under Mac's neck, but Mac's head was dead weight, and Vic didn't want to wake him while they were in this predicament.

Vic tried to roll over on his back so that he didn't have to keep his other arm draped across Mac's body, but that left Vic's right shoulder twisted at an uncomfortable angle.

On the other hand, in his original position, pressed against Mac's side with his arms around the other man, Vic was actually quite comfortable. It was a perfectly functional sleeping position.

Vic resigned himself to his fate, closed his eyes, and held on to the hope that Mac would eventually roll over in his sleep.


	5. Storytelling

Vic woke up alone in his bed.

It took him a minute or two to remember that he _hadn't_ been alone when he last fell asleep.

Feeling extremely awkward, Vic got out of bed and went looking for Mac.

Mac was nowhere in sight, but the coffee maker was on, with one cup's worth of coffee still in the carafe. Vic's favourite mug sat near the sink with a stain of leftover coffee in its bottom, evidence that there had been at least two cups' worth to start with.

Vic looked around for a note, but didn't find one.

"Okay," he said to himself, pouring the coffee into his second-favourite mug. "This should be an interesting day."

Li Ann arrived at the Agency at the same time as Vic did; Mac was already at the briefing table, slouched in a chair and wearing his sunglasses. He'd definitely gone home and showered; he was dressed now in one of his snappy Hong Kong suits, and freshly shaved. He gave Li Ann and Vic a little wave when they came in.

The Director emerged from her office as soon as Vic and Li Ann sat down. "I have good news about the case," she said, taking a seat at the head of the table. "Mr. Dobrinsky and I have been re-canvassing the friends and acquaintances of the men who disappeared, and another pattern has emerged. It might be something we can use."

"Hey, that's great!" Vic said. "So we can stop using Mac as bait?"

The Director peered at him over the rims of the glasses she was wearing. "Don't be hasty, Victor," she said. "I didn't say _that_." She flipped open a little notebook. "It appears that apart from a tendency to play the field, each of the vanished men shared a reputation for, shall we say, emotional or mental instability. Their friends described them as, let's see..." she flipped quickly through the pages. "A little bipolar. Cute, but crazy. A few crayons short of a box. A hot mess." She closed the book. "And so on. Admittedly, we have no way of distinguishing correlation from causation here—it's possible that they were specifically targeted because of this instability, but it's also possible that their vulnerability simply made them more likely to get into trouble. Nevertheless, Mac, I think it would be worthwhile for you to work this angle." She gave him a wry over-the-glasses look. "I don't imagine that will be too much of a stretch for you."

Mac squirmed a little, but didn't actually object.

With no work to do on the case during daylight hours, Vic decided to head to the Agency gym. Mac and Li Ann both joined him. At first Vic thought the three of them might have a chance to actually _talk_ about stuff—but every opportunity that came up was swiftly undermined by either Mac or Li Ann, and after a while Vic got the message.

It was easier to just work out, anyway. Nothing beat six hours in the gym for getting rid of the tension he'd started carrying around in his neck and shoulders since the start of this case.

Evening found Vic and Li Ann parked in the listening van outside of a bar called the Unicorn. At some point during the day, the Agency technicians had changed the decals on the sides of the van; now it was a butcher's delivery truck.

This time, Vic had brought a cribbage board. He planned to teach Li Ann how to play. Crazy Eights had got old fast. 

At the moment, though, Vic and Li Ann were listening intently to Mac's conversation in the bar. It was actually pretty entertaining. Mac had told tonight's mark that he was an ex-professional SCUBA diver. He'd been telling diving stories for the past fifteen minutes. The other guy seemed to be hanging on his every word.

"This is amazing," Vic whispered to Li Ann. "How does he come up with all these details?"

"Well, we did go diving off the Great Barrier Reef a few times on vacation," Li Ann said.

"Wow," Vic said. "I guess there are perks to being rich."

Li Ann shrugged. "You know why Mac and I left that life."

"So why'd you give it up?" the guy asked Mac, in the bar, at almost the same moment.

"See this scar?" Mac said. "I got stabbed by a swordfish. Right through my wrist. Man, I nearly bled to death in the water. And if my diving buddy hadn't pulled me out before the sharks got there, I'd have been chum. Believe me, being a personal trainer is much safer."

Li Ann rolled her eyes. "That didn't actually happen," she told Vic.

The guy must've liked Mac's story, though, because five minutes later they were leaving the bar together. This time Li Ann and Vic followed them to a bungalow in North York. Then Vic walked Li Ann through her first two games of cribbage, while Mac apparently walked tonight's guy through about half of the Kama Sutra.

Afterwards, Vic was not at all surprised when Mac whispered into the wire and told them to meet him at Vic's place, or when they got there to find Mac making popcorn and putting on a fresh kung fu flick. Even Mac falling asleep halfway through the movie had a sense of inevitability to it.

Vic and Li Ann kissed for a long time at the door after she put on her coat, and did _not_ talk about what they were doing.

At that point, though, Vic decided he'd rather fast-forward through the next inevitable event.

"Wake up, Mac," he said, gently shaking his partner's shoulder.

"Huh?" Mac mumbled, blinking up at him dozily.

"The movie's over. You can crash on my bed."

Mac stood up and shuffled off to Vic's bed unquestioningly. Vic followed him, and saw Mac climb under the covers and apparently fall straight back to sleep. Vic shut off the lights and went to sleep on the couch.

In the middle of the night Vic was awakened by shouting. Disoriented, Vic fell off the couch. "Fuck!" he gasped, scrambling to his feet and looking frantically around.

Nobody was there and he was in his living room. He had a horrible crick in his neck. A moment later he remembered _why_ he was in his living room.

He went to his bedroom. Mac was thrashing around on the bed, the covers tangled around his legs.

"Seriously?" Vic groaned to himself. He crawled onto the bed and pinned Mac down before he could punch Vic in the nose. "Mac," Vic said, "Wake up."

Mac gasped, and his eyes opened. He stared wildly at Vic for a moment, and said something in Chinese.

"You're in my bed," Vic said, because that was probably helpful information. "You were dreaming."

Mac shuddered, then relaxed. "Vic," he said.

"Yep," Vic agreed. "That's me."

"Okay," Mac said, and closed his eyes.

This time, Vic wasn't technically trapped. He'd been entirely on top of Mac when he'd woken him up, so now he could ease off, carefully, without waking Mac, and get away.

Except when Vic started to move away, Mac rolled towards him with a little moan.

"Mac?" Vic whispered. "What's up?"

But from the sound of Mac's breathing, it seemed like he was still asleep.

"Shit," Vic muttered.

Well. The bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the couch. And Vic was way too tired to come up with another solution.

Vic kept one arm slung across Mac's body, and he went to sleep.

Once again, he woke up alone and found coffee brewed in the kitchen.

The next night, the decals on the listening truck advertised a dog-grooming service, and Mac told his mark a fifteen-minute story about his past as a professional hot air balloonist.

"Did you do ballooning on holidays with the Tangs, too?" Vic whispered to Li Ann.

She shook her head. "I don't know where he's getting this one from."

"Oh," Vic remembered. "The Weierstrass case. Mac and Jackie ended up chasing the thieves ten kilometres in a hot air balloon."

"Right," Li Ann remembered. "It took me a week to get all of the chewing gum out of my hair."

"So why did you stop?" the guy in the bar was asking Mac.

"See this scar?" said Mac. "It was a warm September morning, just around sunrise. I was flying over some farms north of the city. Suddenly this flock of Canadian geese came out of nowhere. I guess they were blinded by the sunrise, 'cause they flew right into my balloon. Their claws pierced the silk, and all of a sudden I was going down. I crashed into a tree—got a branch stuck through my wrist. I could've bled out up there, but luckily someone saw the balloon falling and called 911. Since then, man, no more ballooning for me. Being a personal trainer is much safer."

Vic and Li Ann rolled their eyes, and got out the cribbage board.

After the sex, Mac didn't even bother saying anything to Vic and Li Ann—he just drove straight to Vic's house. Vic and Li Ann followed in the truck, because by then they knew the drill.

The snack was pretzels instead of popcorn, the movie was _Five Deadly Venoms_ , and Vic had bought more beer earlier that day.

Mac made it almost to the climax of the movie before he fell asleep, so Vic and Li Ann watched it through to the credits. Then Li Ann put on her coat, she and Vic kissed for several minutes, and she left.

This time, Vic put on his pyjamas first, then woke up Mac and led him to the bed.

And then, not entirely sure he was in his right mind for doing so, Vic crawled in beside him.

When Mac started thrashing around and yelling in the middle of the night, Vic just grabbed him, muttered "Shut up, Mac," and went back to sleep.

In the morning, Mac was gone, there was fresh coffee in the coffee maker, and there was a croissant from Tim Horton's in a paper bag on the kitchen counter.

Vic bit into the croissant bemusedly. Its presence meant that Mac had left the apartment, walked two blocks to the coffee shop, bought the croissant for Vic, walked _back_ to Vic's apartment, and left again.

Vic didn't really know what to make of that.

On Wednesday, the listening truck had a dry cleaner's decals, and Mac had a story about being a former professional ballroom dancer.

"So why'd you give it up?" the Wednesday guy asked him finally.

"Do you see this scar on my wrist?" Mac asked. "Two words: stiletto heels. I made a bad lift, and _wham!_ , next thing I know I'm nearly bleeding out on the dance floor. Believe me, being a personal trainer is much safer."

That night, the snack was potato chips and the movie was _Hard Boiled_. But before they started the movie, Vic asked Mac about the stories he was telling.

"Aren't you worried some of these guys are going to compare notes?" he asked. "They're going to think you're a pathological liar."

"Well, duh," Mac said. "That's kind of the point. Remember the Director's instructions?"

"You're trying to make yourself look unstable," Li Ann deduced.

Mac shrugged. "I was shooting for 'hot mess.'"

By Thursday, Vic realized that he had reached what was probably a lifetime peak of sexual frustration.

Every evening, he got to spend an hour listening to what was basically a pornographic radio play starring his best friend, while playing cribbage in cramped quarters with the woman he loved and trying to will away his erection.

Then: a movie, chaste kisses with Li Ann at the door, and night time snuggles with Mac.

The only time he could even beat off was during his morning shower—he didn't want to have to change his sheets before work. And in the shower, while he mostly thought about Li Ann, images of Mac kept creeping in.

He was also starting to feel really awkward about the fact that Mac didn't know about his good-bye kisses with Li Ann, and the fact that Li Ann didn't know that Mac and Vic were sharing a bed. And yet, any time during the day when he tried to initiate a serious conversation with either one of them, they deflected it as automatically as if it were a weak and telegraphed punch.

On Friday night, the van was marked as a greengrocer's delivery truck, and Mac's storytelling caught up to him.

"Do you see this scar?" he asked the Friday guy. "My glove came off when I fell, the other guy skated over my wrist, and I nearly bled out on the ice. I was out for the rest of the season, and that was the end of my career in minor league hockey."

"Nice story," the guy said. "But I heard you told Bruce you got that scar when you were gored by a bull in the Calgary Stampede."

Mac laughed. "Okay, you got me. You just didn't look like you'd be into cowboys."

Vic turned to Li Ann, slightly confused. "Did I doze off yesterday? I don't remember the cowboy story."

Li Ann shook her head, frowning. "Yesterday he was a former professional stock car racer."

"Wasn't that Wednesday?" Vic said.

"No, Wednesday was the ballroom dancing." Li Ann shrugged. "I don't remember the cowboy."

At that point Li Ann had to climb into the front of the truck and drive, because apparently lies weren't a big turn-off for Mr. Friday—he took Mac home and fucked him for forty-five minutes.

On Saturday, the storytelling took a darker turn.

"Yeah," Mac said to Mr. Saturday, whose name was Harry, "I've done time."

"Seriously?" Harry asked. "For what?"

"Organized crime," Mac said, loftily.

Vic and Li Ann shared a worried look in the truck. 

"What's he up to?" Vic whispered.

Li Ann shrugged. "Trying to make himself look unstable?"

Harry, meanwhile, snorted. "You're shitting me," he said.

"Nope," Mac said. "I was part of a Triad gang."

Vic winced. "Shit, Mac, do not go there," he whispered—uselessly, since only Li Ann could hear him.

"Now I _know_ you're shitting me," Harry said. "You're not even Chinese."

"Well, what do _you_ know about the Triads?" Mac asked, in a tone of wounded pride.

"My family's from Hong Kong, I've heard all about them," the guy said.

Mac said something in Chinese in reply.

Vic gave Li Ann a quizzical look, and she quickly translated: "What a coincidence, I'm from Hong Kong too."

The guy responded briefly in Chinese.

"He just said, basically, 'for real?'" Li Ann translated.

Mac, meanwhile, went on with a flow of rapid Chinese.

"He's talking about the city," Li Ann said, "How much he misses the food, the horse racing..."

Harry cut Mac off at that point, though. "Whoa, whoa," he said. "Back to English, please. I'm second-generation Canadian, I barely even speak Cantonese."

"So you believe me?" Mac asked.

"I dunno," Harry said. "I've heard some guys say you tell a lot of stories."

"Well," Mac said, "Let's get another round of drinks and you can ask me some questions, and then you can decide for yourself."

Harry's first question was, "Are you out of the gang now?"

Vic half-expected Mac's reply to start with _Do you see this scar?_ but instead Mac said: "Yeah. Everybody I knew from inside is dead now."

"Wow," Harry said. It was obvious that he was 99% convinced Mac was bullshitting him, but that there was still that tiny doubt. "How'd that happen?"

"Gang war," Mac said. "Power struggle. I was out of it by then."

In the truck, Vic noticed that Li Ann was looking a little pale. He took her hand and squeezed it.

"How'd you get out?" Harry asked.

"Faked my own death," Mac said. "Accidentally. I was _trying_ to steal a bunch of money from them and make a clean getaway, but instead I mostly got blown up."

"What kind of stuff did you do while you were in the gang?" Harry asked.

Mac ordered another drink for himself and started describing some crazy heist at the Hong Kong Trade Association. It was easy for Vic to recognise Mac's two partners in the story as Michael and Li Ann, though Mac didn't use their names. When Mac got to the part about jumping out of a shattered sky-rise window and making a getaway on a window cleaner's elevator, Vic rolled his eyes and whispered to Li Ann, "That didn't really happen, did it?"

"Every word was true," she said.

"Well, why the hell didn't security take the building elevators down and catch you at the bottom?"

Li Ann shrugged. "Maybe Michael disabled the elevators? I forget."

After that, Mac told a few more stories of jobs he'd pulled off. Harry seemed to find the whole thing pretty entertaining. Vic noticed that the stories were focused on fancy tricks and thief-type stuff, minimal on the violence. Nobody died in any of them. He wondered how representative that was of what Mac and Li Ann had really done with the Tangs—but decided that now was not the time to ask.

It was a bit weird, really, to realize how little he knew about Li Ann and Mac's lives before the Agency. At this point, Harry in the bar knew almost as much as Vic did.

Except Harry probably thought it was all lies.

"So how did you get involved with a Triad in the first place?" Harry asked. "I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but you're a white dude."

"Wow," said Mac. "Uh. For this I'm going to need another drink."

"Shit," Vic whispered to Li Ann. "That's what, his fifth drink? Sixth? He is not going to be okay to drive after this."

Li Ann shushed him. She was staring intently at the speakers.

"I wasn't born in Hong Kong," Mac said. "I was born in Canada. My dad was this globe-trotting con artist, and when I was thirteen he took me to Hong Kong with him and then just kinda ditched me there."

"What, like, with a friend or something?" Harry asked.

"Nope," Mac said. "On the street."

"Dude," Harry said. "That's not possible. Who would do that?"

"That's my dad for you," Mac said, and Vic was pretty sure he could hear him taking a drink.

"But how would you even survive?" Harry said.

"Well, I was pretty much screwed," Mac said. "I didn't know the city, I didn't know the language, and my dad had drilled a primal fear of the police into me so I couldn't go to _them_. Luckily I was pretty good at stealing, so at least I didn't go hungry."

"Where did you _sleep_?" Harry asked.

"Wherever I could," Mac said. "Alleys. Doorways."

"For how long?" Harry asked.

"A few months."

"Dude," Harry said softly, and it was pretty clear that he wasn't sure whether to believe Mac or not at this point, but that he was realizing that if this stuff was true, Mac was one fucked up guy.

"Is this stuff true?" Vic whispered to Li Ann.

"I don't know," Li Ann said. She looked troubled.

"Wait, what do you mean you don't _know_?" Vic said. "Didn't you two grow up together?"

"I don't know how he came to join the Tangs," Li Ann whispered back. "I never asked."

Vic was—well, _stunned_ was putting it mildly.

And the next thing he realized was that he actually didn't know how Li Ann had come to join the Tangs, either.

"So how did you go from living on the streets to the top ranks of the criminal underworld?" Harry asked. From his tone, it seemed plain that while Harry was withholding judgement regarding the truth of the part about Mac living on the street, he seriously doubted the part about Mac being a high-placed Triad gang member.

Which, ironically, was the one part Vic knew for sure was true.

"Well," Mac said, "There was this gym. It backed onto one of the alleys I hid out in, and when the weather was hot—which was most of the time—they'd leave the doors standing open. The guys inside were practicing all these crazy martial arts moves, kickboxing and kung fu and shit. I thought—if I could learn to fight like that, living on the street would get a whole lot easier. So, anyway, I hung out around the doorway a lot, and finally they let me in, and showed me some moves. And when one of the guys realized I was sleeping rough, he started letting me stay in the gym at night. I mean, he wanted favours in return and shit. I was pretty much his bitch. But it was a big improvement on being homeless."

"Wow," Harry said, and it wasn't a good kind of wow.

In the truck, Li Ann was still like a statue. Vic could not read her expression.

"Anyway, surprise, the gym was associated with a Triad gang. And I guess I was really good at picking up fighting styles, like, scary good. So that's how I came to the attention of the godfather. And the rest is history."

"Dude," Harry said. "If you're not shitting me ... Jesus. That's just incredibly awful."

"Yeah," Mac said. "Well. Still not as awful as jail."

"What was jail like?" Harry said, though he sounded like he was almost afraid to ask.

There was a pause before Mac answered, and Vic thought he heard the sound of a glass being set down. "Eighteen months' solitary confinement," Mac said. "See this scar? That's where I tried to slit my wrist on my bedpost one year in."

In the truck, Li Ann squeezed Vic's hand. Vic's throat felt dry.

"Jesus," Harry said.

"Well," Mac said, "It was okay. They patched me up, gave me some meds. Time seemed to go faster after that." He gave a hollow laugh. "Sorry. That story turned into a downer, didn't it? Do you want to go back to your place and have sex now?"

"Dude," Harry said, "I don't know if you've been sitting here lying to me all night, or if that's just the most fucked up shit I've ever heard, or what. But I know that you are seriously fucking drunk. Come back and talk to me when you've had about five less drinks, and then I'll see if I want to have sex with you."

There was the sound of a chair's legs scraping. That was Harry, presumably, getting up and walking away.

"Fuck this," Mac said, and he ordered another drink.

"Damn it," Vic said. He stood up. "We have to get him out of there."

Li Ann nodded, but she put a restraining hand on Vic's arm. "Without blowing his cover," she reminded him.

"Right," Vic said. "So I guess I'm on my own."

He climbed out of the van and covered the half block to the bar at a brisk walk.

He tried to use the time to psych himself up for the role he was about to play, but it wasn't much use. At the threshold of the bar, he looked down at himself. He had on his fleece jacket, a pair of old jeans, and work boots. Not sure if that was the right uniform for this place, but it would have to do.

He pushed through the doors and was immediately assaulted by the familiar sounds of the place—at full volume now instead of the damped-down level they'd played it at in the truck. He scanned the room, looking for Mac.

It was Saturday night and the place was pretty full. Everywhere Vic looked, he saw men chatting with each other, grinning, laughing ... touching each other, kissing. Vic's heart sped up. He felt really, really out of place.

He finally spotted Mac, sitting alone and nursing a drink at a small high table near the back. Vic strode through the premises, trying not to make physical contact with anyone and failing. When he reached Mac, he tapped him on the shoulder and cleared his throat.

"Hey there, handsome," Vic said in a gruffly awkward put-on inflection. "Want to get out of here?"

Mac looked up at him in bleary-eyed confusion. "Not really," he said.

"Come on, Mac," Vic hissed. "You've had too much to drink. We need to get you home."

Mac shrugged. "I struck out," he said. "So how about let's just call this a night off. I think I'd rather stay and drink."

"Well, you drove here, so no."

Mac shrugged, fished his keys out of his pocket, and tossed them in the general direction of Vic. "Take my car. I'll take the subway."

Well, that solved the potential DUI problem, but Vic wasn't about to leave Mac in public in this kind of state. "Seriously Mac," he said, grabbing his partner's arm. "Li Ann and I are going to take you home."

"Fuck off," Mac said, and tried to jerk his arm away from Vic. Vic's grip held. Mac tried to push Vic away, but the attempt was feeble. Vic started to worry, though, that this was going to turn into an actual fight, and that was all they needed, to get kicked out of one of Toronto's preeminent gay bars for brawling.

Only things didn't keep going in that direction, because all of a sudden somebody was tapping Vic's shoulder and saying "Excuse me? Dude?"

Vic turned, and saw a thirty-something, compactly muscled Chinese man in a tight silver mesh shirt giving him a steely-eyed glare. Vic recognised his voice; it was Harry.

"Mac?" Harry said. "Is this dude bothering you?"

"Kinda," Mac said. Then he saw the glare Vic shot him. "No," Mac said. "I was just gonna leave with him."

"Mac," Harry said urgently, "Listen. You know guys have been disappearing, right? You've got to be careful. And I'm just saying, nobody I talked to in the past two minutes has ever seen _this_ guy before." He gave Vic another suspicious look.

"What does it matter?" Mac asked, sliding off his high bar stool and gaining his feet, swaying a bit. "I'm a liar anyway, right?"

"Maybe," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't matter what happens to you."

Vic felt seriously like punching _somebody_ in the mouth. This situation was fucked up and he didn't know how to extricate himself—not without blowing Mac's painfully-constructed cover.

At that point, though, Mac finally stopped being obstructive. "It's okay, Harry, really," he said. "I know him. I know him really well. He's my—"

"Friend," Vic interrupted.

"Ex," Mac finished at the same time.

Harry looked suspiciously from one to the other of them. "Which is it?" he asked.

"It's complicated," Mac said.

And then he kissed Vic.

Vic saw it coming just barely in time that he could have ducked it, but he _didn't_ —because the goal right now was to reassure Harry, and Vic had to follow Mac's lead since Mac was _not_ following his.

Vic closed his eyes and tried not to panic.

Mac's lips were soft, but his stubble felt scratchy on Vic's face. Vic raised a shaky hand to the small of Mac's back, and tried to look like he was into this. He was pretty sure he was going to get a measurable blood alcohol level just off of the fumes from Mac's breath.

Vic felt himself getting hard.

Mac broke away first, giving Vic a complicated look. "So anyway," he said to Harry, "It's okay."

"It's your skin, dude," Harry finally conceded, and walked away.

Vic realized he was holding Mac's hand, somehow. It was disconcerting, but convenient, because it made it easier to pull Mac out of the bar before anything else happened.

Out front, Vic asked Mac, "Where's your car?"

"I dunno," Mac said, and swayed.

"What do you mean, you don't know? It must be right around here." Vic looked up and down the street.

"I don't remember," Mac said, and leaned against Vic.

Vic made a frustrated noise and dragged Mac towards the van. "Li Ann can use the tracker to find it from the van," he said.

"Sure," Mac mumbled, stumbling along behind him.

By the time they got to the van, Vic was half-carrying Mac, and he'd given up on the idea of the car. "Just get in," he said, shoving Mac into the front seat. The front was a bench that could seat three; hopefully being pinned between Li Ann and Vic would keep Mac out of trouble. "You can come back for your car tomorrow."

Vic half-expected Mac to pass out in the van, but he didn't. He sat quietly, straight-backed, staring out at the street while Li Ann drove.

Vic glanced down at Mac's lap. His hands were lying there, loose, and Vic could see the pale scar on the inside of Mac's right wrist. It was just a couple of inches long, running length-wise. It was slightly jagged, and little notches on its edges showed that the wound had been stitched. Vic touched it.

"How'd you get that scar, Mac?" he asked, fake-casually.

"Got hung up climbing over a chain link fence when I was eleven," Mac said, still staring out the window.

Vic had no idea whether to believe him. He decided it didn't really matter, for now. They all had lots of scars.

It wasn't until Li Ann parked the van in front of Vic's building that Vic realized she'd brought them to his place, like always.

"I don't think we're going to do movie night tonight," Vic said quietly.

"Well, we're not going to leave him alone at _his_ place," Li Ann replied, talking over Mac like he wasn't there.

"Point," Vic conceded. "Help me get him up to my apartment?"

It was a second floor walk-up, and in fact they practically needed to carry Mac up the stairs. Inside, Mac sort of vaguely cooperated when they sat him on the couch and pulled his boots and coat off of him. He didn't say anything.

"I guess I should go," Li Ann said when that was done. "He'll be okay here with you."

"Li Ann, please stay," Vic said quickly. "I need you tonight."

"I thought we agreed," Li Ann said. "Not until we've talked about it, and not until this case is over. And anyway ... I really need to go away and think about stuff, tonight."

"What Mac told Harry," Vic said. "Yeah. That was a lot to take in. And that's a big part of why I need you here tonight, Li Ann." Vic swallowed. "Listen. Mac hasn't been sleeping on my couch all week. He's been sleeping with me, in my bed."

Li Ann looked shocked. "What are you saying, Vic?"

"We're not having sex!" Vic clarified hastily. He pulled her aside, away from Mac. "I mean, literally _sleeping_ ," he continued in a whisper. "He has these nightmares every night, and he's totally freaked out until I calm him down, but I have to hold him, and—I should've told you the first night. You would've been better for this. I don't even know what he's saying when he wakes up, it's always in Chinese."

Li Ann shot a worried look in Mac's direction. "I wish you'd told me," she said.

"Well, I'm telling you now. Will you stay?"

She nodded. "But what are we going to do?"

Vic gave a sort of weak laugh. "Well, my couch is seriously the most uncomfortable thing in the universe to sleep on."

All three of them slept on Vic's bed.

They put Mac in the middle. He curled up on his right side and snored very gently. Li Ann climbed in behind Mac, and Vic lay in front of him.

And that night, for the first time all week, Mac didn't wake up at all.


	6. Green Tea

Instead of waking up alone in his bed, Vic woke up cold on one side of his body because Mac was snuggled against him but Li Ann had stolen all of the covers.

Vic carefully eased himself out of the bed. Neither Mac nor Li Ann stirred.

He put on a pot of coffee, and decided he should do some laundry. He hadn't had a day off in more than a week, and he was running out of clean clothes.

Li Ann emerged about half an hour later, rumpled in yesterday's outfit.

"Coffee?" Vic offered.

She accepted. He poured two mugs, and sat down at the table with her.

"I need to go home. Shower and change before we're due back at the Agency," she said, blowing on the coffee. "What about Mac?"

Vic shrugged. "Director said she wanted us at noon today. There's no rush."

Li Ann stood up. "Do you still have some green tea?"

"That stuff you bought. Yeah."

She went and filled Vic's kettle, and set it to boil. "Cold green tea is good for a hangover," she said, returning to the table.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," Vic said.

"So." Li Ann wrapped her hands around her mug again. "Last night..."

"Yeah." Vic sipped his coffee to give himself more time to think. "When he was talking to Harry—he knew we were listening."

She nodded. "I think it was all true," she said. "What he told Harry. I don't think he had that scar on his wrist before we ran away from the Tangs."

"You think?" Vi repeated. "You're not sure."

"No," she said. "I'm not." She frowned at her mug. "But the guy who let him sleep in the gym. I think that must have been Michael."

"What does _that_ mean?" Vic asked.

She shrugged. "I've been trying to figure that out since last night. I knew, in Hong Kong, that Mac went to Michael's bed sometimes. We never talked about it, but they didn't go to great lengths to hide it from me. But that was in the last years—when we were adults. Just before Mac and I got together."

"Michael was older than you and Mac, right?" Vic said.

Li Ann nodded. "When Mac was thirteen, Michael would have been nineteen or twenty."

"The favours he had to do for the guy," Vic said. "Do you think he meant...?" He couldn't bring himself to come out and say it: _do you think they were sexual_?

The kettle started to whistle, and Li Ann got abruptly to her feet. "We shouldn't talk about this anymore," she said. "Not behind Mac's back." She grabbed a pot holder, and carefully poured some boiling water into Vic's teapot. It was the one she'd bought him when they were engaged, so that she could have tea when she stayed over; Vic had never been much of a guy for tea.

"Last night," Vic said. "When I went to drag him out of the bar. Something happened that you might not have picked up on the wire."

"Mac kissed you," Li Ann said.

"Oh. You did pick it up, then." Vic felt his neck getting a little warm.

"Well, I guessed." She gave Vic a concerned look. "Try not to be too mad at him, okay? He was drunk, and this case is clearly getting to him."

"I know." Vic cleared his throat and stared down into his coffee. "I didn't exactly hate it," he added.

When he managed to raise his eyes to meet her gaze, he saw that she looked almost like she was going to _laugh_.

"Hey!" he said. "It's not _funny_."

"I know," Li Ann said. "I'm sorry. It was unexpected. I think I'm in shock a little, here. Victor Mansfield, did you just tell me that you enjoyed being kissed by a man?"

"I didn't say _enjoyed_ ," Vic muttered. "And it wasn't 'a man.' It was Mac."

"Who is a man," Li Ann pointed out.

"It's _Mac_ ," Vic repeated, as if that were going to help. "He's—"

"Special?" Li Ann supplied, raising an eyebrow.

Vic scowled at her.

"He _is_ very attractive," Li Ann said. She seemed to have decided to have fun with this. "Very physical. He's always flirting with you."

"He's my _friend_ ," Vic finally finished his own sentence. "What do you mean, he's always flirting with me?"

Li Ann shook her head. "Never mind, I was teasing. It was inappropriate. He flirts with _everybody_ , Vic. And he went over the line when he kissed you, he shouldn't have done that. But I'm glad you're not mad at him."

"Actually, I'm worried about him," Vic said. "I told you about the nightmares he's been having."

"I didn't notice anything last night," Li Ann said.

Vic shrugged. "Maybe 'cause he drank so much."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Li Ann said. "Once this case is over."

Vic groaned. "I feel like this case is _never_ going to be over."

"Maybe the Director will have good news for us today. We haven't heard from Jackie in a few days; maybe she's getting somewhere with Russell."

"Oh man, I hope so." Vic rubbed his neck. "'Cause I gotta say, Li Ann, I know we said we were going to wait till it's over before we talk about _us_ , but it's getting harder and harder to keep my hands off of you." He looked over at her quickly, wondering if he'd gone too far. He hadn't really planned to say that; it had just spilled out of him.

Li Ann took a shaky breath. "I know," she said. "Me too."

She'd been standing over by the teapot all this time; now she took a step towards Vic. He stood up, and closed the gap between them.

They were kissing. Vic felt like every nerve in his body was singing. He felt Li Ann's hands clutching at his shoulders, her soft lips, her breasts against his chest. His hands wrapped around her hips, pulled her closer. He felt his cock swelling; Li Ann ground against him, and he groaned.

"We can't..." he moaned against her cheek.

"I know," she whispered, and nibbled kisses along his jaw. "I've missed you so much."

He didn't point out that they saw each other every day. He knew what she meant. "Me too," he whispered back. His hands slid under her shirt, apparently of their own accord.

She shuddered. Her skin was silky under his fingertips. "We have to stop..." she murmured, but her hands were creeping up under his shirt, too.

And then they heard the unmistakeable sound of somebody throwing up in the bathroom.

They broke apart like somebody had thrown ice water on them.

"Mac's awake," Li Ann said, quickly smoothing her hair down with a nervous gesture. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Yep." Vic kind of stumbled backwards and collapsed into his chair. His erection was still painful, but fading fast. He took a quick gulp of cold coffee.

By the time Mac showed up a minute later, both of them were sitting at the table calmly and nobody was blushing.

"Good morning!" Vic greeted him, his voice pitched just a _little_ too high. He cleared his throat.

Mac gave him a cursory wave and walked on by. "See you guys at the Agency," he said.

"Wait!" Vic sprang to his feet and intercepted Mac. "Where are you going?"

"Home." Mac looked at him like he was stupid. "Gotta clean up. Change."

"Mac, I made you some tea," Li Ann said. "You'll feel better after you drink it."

"Remember you left your car somewhere downtown," Vic added. He took Mac by the elbow and nudged him back towards the table. Mac looked unhappy, but he didn't actually resist.

Vic half-shoved Mac onto a chair, and Li Ann pressed a mug of the green tea into his hands. Then Vic and Li Ann settled into the two seats on the opposite side of the table.

Mac stared at them. He looked awful; his eyes were bloodshot and his complexion was pasty. "Um," he said. "Is something up?" He raised the mug to his lips for a careful sip, and Vic noticed that his hands were trembling a bit.

"No," Li Ann said quickly.

"Yes," Vic said at the same time. They looked at each other. She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. " _Yes_ ," Vic insisted, looking back at Mac. "Last night. The story you told Harry. What the hell were you thinking, man?"

Mac put down his mug and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, looking pained. "I wasn't," he said, massaging his temples. "It was a fuck-up, okay? I drank too much."

From what Vic could recall, Mac had only really started drinking _after_ he'd started telling the story, but whatever. That wasn't the point. "You're falling apart," he said, bluntly. "If you don't ask the Director to take you off this case, I will."

Mac glared at him. "Vic," he said, "You're an idiot. Haven't you figured out yet that the Director isn't asking me to do anything I wouldn't have done anyway? Did you miss the whole fucking point of the story?" 

"What point?" Vic said. He glanced at Li Ann; she was frowning.

"About _Michael_ ," Mac said, impatiently. He took a jerky sip of tea; a bit of liquid sloshed over the edge of the mug. "How it all started."

"He was the one who let you sleep at the gym," Li Ann said, quietly.

"Right," Mac said. "So do you get it now? This is no big deal for me." His tone was at odds with his words; he sounded increasingly upset.

"Mac," Vic said, carefully, "Are you telling us that Michael made you do sexual favours in exchange for getting you off the street?"

Li Ann had gone quite still.

Mac was gripping his mug of tea very tightly, but he gave a sharp laugh. "No, I'm saying I was perfectly _happy_ to do them."

Vic wasn't sure how to respond to this. He felt utterly out of his element. Li Ann was still like a statue. "You were thirteen," Vic said carefully. "That was statutory rape."

"That's a technicality," Mac said. "You sound like a cop."

"I _am_ a cop," Vic pointed out.

"Not anymore." Mac stood up, leaving his tea on the table. "See you at the Agency."

"Wait," Li Ann said quickly, standing up too. "I'll drive you home."

Mac hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. Bye, Vic."

Li Ann met Vic's eyes for a moment, but he couldn't interpret the look she gave him. Sorry? Don't worry? I've got this? Help? No fucking clue. "See you at noon," she said.

* * *

"Well," the Director said, pacing behind her three seated agents in a way that was obviously intended to unnerve them, "We've had a couple of interesting developments in our current case."

Vic shot a look sideways at Mac and Li Ann. They'd gotten to the Agency before him, and he hadn't had time to check in with them before the Director had entered the room. They'd both cleaned up and changed, and Mac had—no surprise—left his sunglasses on again.

"First of all," the Director said, trailing her fingers along the backs of each of their chairs, as she passed, "I received this morning a copy of a police report. The report was made last night, by a concerned citizen. A young man was seen leaving a gay bar in the company of a suspicious stranger last night, possibly under duress. The young man in question seemed to fit the profile of the missing men; the witness described him as a regular on the bar scene, and emphasized his worrying emotional instability. The witness was particularly concerned because he tailed the two out of the bar, and saw the older stranger shoving the younger man into a knife-sharpening truck before promptly driving away."

"Shit," Vic said, "The kidnapper's still working. And we missed him."

Li Ann tapped his knee under the table. "Vic," she said under her breath, "wasn't the listening van disguised as a knife-sharpening truck last night?"

Vic felt his stomach plummet. "Oops."

"The witness was kind enough to go down to the station and meet with a sketch artist," the Director added, leaning over Vic's shoulder to place a photocopied sheet on the briefing table.

"Hey Vic," Mac piped up. "That's a good picture of you. Really captures your pretty eyes."

"Shut up, Mac," Vic muttered, trying to sink into his chair.

"Oh, don't worry," the Director said in a mock-comforting tone, patting both male agents on the head, "You can clear up the confusion by having Mac show his un-kidnapped face again tonight."

"About that," Vic said. "I was thinking maybe we should back off on this line of attack. It doesn't seem to be getting us anywhere."

The Director flicked his ear. "Victor. Show some perseverance," she said. "I'd say, if Toronto's gay male community is starting to get _worried_ about Mac, then we're on the right track. The kidnappers will hardly be able to resist such juicy bait."

"We _still_ don't even know if there _was_ a kidnapper," Vic pointed out. "You could be putting us all through hell for nothing."

The Director stopped walking. "Don't exaggerate, Vic," she said, coolly. "You know nothing of hell."

Vic almost came back with a defensive rejoinder about all the crap he'd gone through—getting framed, doing time, losing his job and reputation and friends—but he bit his tongue just in time.

He'd never been ditched on the streets of Hong Kong at the age of thirteen, for instance.

"I said there was a second piece of news about the case," the Director reminded them all. "The three of you weren't the only ones to spend last night with interesting bedfellows."

Vic gave a guilty start at that, but the Director was still talking.

"Jackie spent last night with Russell Smith," she said. "And guess what? Russell cracked. Bradley's back."

"Well, that's _great_ news," Vic said. "Good work, Jackie."

"Bradley is currently undergoing psychiatric assessment," the Director added, "preliminary to what promises to be a long rehabilitation. Someone really did a number on him."

"What do you mean?" Li Ann asked.

"Our suspicion was correct," the Director said. "There was a kidnapper. In fact, there were at least two, working together. Bradley left the Eagle in the company of one of them, that fated night in October—believing him to be a fellow traveller in search of a good time. They left the bar in the other man's car, Bradley having arrived by public transit. The last thing Bradley remembers from that night is pulling into a deserted parking lot. At that point, presumably, the kidnapper knocked him out—perhaps through the use of drugs."

"So Bradley saw the guy's face," Vic said. "He could ID him."

"Perhaps. So far he's been able to give only a very fuzzy description; remember, that night was more than four months ago, and apart from whatever drugs he was given to knock him out, he had been drinking heavily. He never saw the kidnapper's face again."

"So what happened after that?" Li Ann asked. "How did Russell Smith come into it?"

"It seems that Bradley was held somewhere—he has no idea where—and subjected to intense brainwashing. He was sleep-deprived, starved and drugged, to the point that he barely remembered his own name, while two men—he thinks it was two—explained to him, unceasingly, the evils of homosexuality and the inevitability of God's wrath. By the end of this period, Bradley had succumbed to such virulent self-loathing that he wanted nothing more than to kill himself. He begged _them_ to kill him. They offered him a fresh start instead—a new name, a new life. Forgiveness for all past sins. He took it, weeping with gratitude. They dropped him off at the church where we found him, with instructions to apply for the job of part-time groundskeeper.

"Jesus," Vic said. "That's sick."

"Unfortunately," the Director said, "Bradley's story still gives us very little to go on."

"There might be some connection with the church," Li Ann suggested.

The Director nodded. "I had plainclothes officers attend Sunday services at every Crossroads Church in Southern Ontario this morning. There are eighteen, by the way. The officers were given photos of the remaining six missing men, and instructions to report back if they found any of them, but not to make contact. And, in fact, just before this briefing, I received word that two of the men had been spotted. One in Sarnia, one in Belleville."

"That's great," Vic said. "Maybe one of them can give a better description of the kidnappers, or even a location."

"Maybe," the Director said. "But I don't want to tip our hand too soon, or the kidnappers may go to ground. Even Russell's disappearance might have that effect, but we can hold out hope that it will go unnoticed for a while yet." She paused. "There has been approximately one disappearance every four to five weeks since last September. It's been five weeks since the last one, so I think we're due. If we get lucky, we can catch these bastards in the act."

"I'm game," Mac said, sitting up a little straighter. "Somebody's gotta stop these guys."

"Good," the Director said. "Just one thing. We can't have a repeat of last night's debacle."

Mac sank down again. "Sorry about that," he said. "I'll go easier on the booze next time."

The Director rolled her eyes. "Not you," she said. "Vic. You have to resist the urge to ride in on your white charger and rescue Mac. Remember, we're _trying_ to get him in trouble."

"Hey," Vic said, feeling unfairly scolded, "He was _drunk_. What was I going to do, let him get in his car?"

"The car presented a problem," the Director agreed, musing. "He's better off without it, anyway—Bradley left the bar in the other man's car. Leave it home from now on, Mac."

"As soon as he can _find_ it," Vic muttered. Mac glared at him, and Li Ann kicked him under the table.

"The drunkenness, however, might work in our favour," the Director went on. "Remember, Bradley was fairly inebriated at the time of his own abduction."

"Last night Mac struck out because he drank too much," Vic pointed out.

The Director shrugged. "That's because Harry was looking for pleasant, consensual sex. We're not trying to catch the likes of Harry, now, are we?"

"Hey, how do you know about Harry?" Mac asked.

The Director rolled her eyes. "Who do you think filed the police report?"


	7. Risk-taking

That night, the sexual tension in the listening van was at an all-time high.

At least, that's what it felt like to Vic. He didn't ask Li Ann for her perspective on the matter, because if they started _talking_ about it Vic wasn't sure how he would even keep his hands off of her.

Certainly, her cheeks looked a bit more flushed than usual and she never held his gaze for very long.

But they were on a job, and they were professionals.

Mac had given up on the storytelling, apparently; tonight his preferred method of seduction seemed to be to plant himself at the bar and call out obscene compliments to guys walking by. Vic had been carefully keeping track of Mac's drinks orders, so he knew that Mac was not in fact nearly as drunk as he sounded.

Harry showed up early in the evening. They heard him over the wire sheepishly telling Mac about the police report he'd made the previous night.

"Don't worry about it," Mac said generously. "Honest mistake. You meant well. You're a good citizen. Great sketch, by the way; you have a real eye for the defining features of a face."

"Dude," Harry said in surprise, "You _saw_ the sketch? How the hell did the police find you? I didn't even know your last name."

In the listening van, Vic face-palmed on Mac's behalf.

"Oh," Mac said loftily, "You'd be surprised how many people know me."

Mac then proceeded to drive Harry away by being a little too obnoxiously drunk; even though Vic knew this was all part of the plan, he found himself getting annoyed with Mac.

Before long, though, Mac had caught the attention of some guy named Karl, and they were leaving the bar together. Li Ann took the wheel, and Vic strapped himself in and kept working the equipment. The transmitter sewn into Mac's jacket wasn't nearly as powerful as the one in his car; now that he didn't have his car, they'd have to stay within about a kilometre if they didn't want to lose contact.

There was something ... _off_ ... about Karl. Some kind of creepy vibe.

In his car, Karl started talking about snuff videos. Nothing specific—just, had Mac ever seen one? Ever been curious?

"Do you think this is our guy?" Li Ann called back to Vic.

"Too soon to say," Vic replied. "Take the next left."

When Karl brought Mac to a swank downtown condo building, it started to look like they'd missed their mark yet again; Russell remembered being knocked out in a parking lot. Still, Vic found himself checking his gun.

"I have a bad feeling about this one," Li Ann said.

Vic nodded. "You're reading my mind."

Over the wire, they heard Mac say "Penthouse, nice."

"Shit," Vic said. "If we have to go in, that's a long way up."

Inside the penthouse, things seemed to be going okay. They heard Mac complimenting Karl on his décor. "Is that a real Basquiat?" he asked.

"Of course," Karl said.

In the van, Li Ann's eyes went wide.

"What?" Vic said.

"Jean-Michel Basquiat," she said. "A painter. Some of his works sell for _millions_."

"Karl's rich," Vic concluded. "Oh, man. Are we in trouble?"

Li Ann shrugged. "Too soon to say."

Next, Karl poured Mac a glass of, apparently, impressively expensive scotch. Not that Vic would know. Li Ann once again served as cultural interpreter.

"Five hundred dollars a bottle," she whispered.

"Yowzers," Vic whispered back. "I'm starting to think Mac got the _fun_ job tonight."

Only, not so much. Because the next thing that happened was that Karl started pressuring Mac to let him fuck him without a condom.

"Oh hell no," Vic said, jerking to his feet—and bumping his head on the ceiling of the van.

"Wait," Li Ann said, putting a hand on his arm. "Listen."

Mac was saying no.

Vic sagged back down, the adrenaline spike fading. He realized he hadn't been sure Mac would say no. Mac was not the greatest advocate for his own safety at the best of times, and right now was not the best of times.

Karl hadn't given up. He implied that the drinking of very expensive scotch involved a sort of obligation. He emphasized his economic position, and suggested that there could be great rewards for making a man of his stature happy—and, on the flip side, terrible consequences for making him _unhappy_.

"Fuck you," Mac said. "I don't need this."

The next thing they heard over the wire was a string of expletives from Karl, cut off abruptly by the slam of a door.

"So much for this evening's festivities," Mac said into the wire. "Real nice guy, Karl. But I don't think he's the kidnapper. Oh well."

A minute later they heard street noises; Mac had emerged from the building.

"Should we pick him up?" Li Ann said.

Over the wire, they heard the sound of a car pulling to a stop, a door opening—and then a man with an Iranian accent asking "Where to?"

"997 Queen's Quay West," Mac said.

"He's going _home_?" Vic said, in stunned disbelief. "But what about Kung Fu Night?"

There was an abrupt staccato crackling over the wire, as if Mac had just tapped the actual microphone. "You've got the rest of the night off," Mac said, the words coming through very clearly—he must've been speaking right into the mic. "You two lovebirds have fun." And then the wire went dead.

"Lovebirds?" Li Ann repeated, perplexed.

"Oops," Vic said. "He must have seen us. This morning. Kissing."

"Oh _no_ ," Li Ann said, with a look of dismay. "He's going to think we've gotten back together behind his back."

"He didn't sound too upset," Vic pointed out.

Li Ann looked sceptical. "He wouldn't want us to know if he was," she said. "We all have to keep working together, right?"

"Okay, that's it," Vic said. "Forget waiting till this case is over. Tomorrow, Li Ann, you've got to talk to Mac. Sort out stuff between you. Try being honest about what you mean to each other. I'm serious."

She gave him a tight, nervous smile. "That's going to be a difficult talk."

"Yeah. Well." Vic cleared his throat. "Tonight, could we talk about _us_?"

* * *

They went back to Vic's place.

Vic served Li Ann a beer, and then spent forty-five minutes searching his place for bugs.

"Give _up_ , Vic," Li Ann groaned around minute forty-six. "You're not going to find anything."

"She's snuck another one in _somewhere_ ," Vic muttered, climbing off the step ladder. He'd just finished screwing his light fixture back into the ceiling. "She knew the three of us spent last night here."

"Okay, it's disturbing how the Director knows every intimate detail of our lives," Li Ann conceded, "But Vic, you just have to accept it and move on. Anyway, it's not like she gave us any grief over it."

Vic put the screwdriver into his toolbox and slammed the lid shut. "Yeah, well, the Director never met a kink she didn't like. That doesn't mean it's okay for her to spy on us."

"Last night wasn't kinky," Li Ann pointed out. "Last night was a sleepover. We might as well have braided each others' hair."

Vic snorted. "Thanks for _that_ emasculating image." Resigning himself to being subject to the Director's surveillance—and damn it, he'd _really_ thought he'd found all the bugs last time—he joined Li Ann at the table.

"It was a joke," Li Ann said. "Your manhood isn't in question."

"I know," Vic said. "So. Let's get serious. Did you really break off our engagement last time because Mac was a slob?"

Li Ann winced. "No." Then she tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully, and amended to: "Yes and no."

"Uh, care to elaborate?" Vic asked.

"No: I broke off our engagement because marrying you would have felt like abandoning Mac," Li Ann admitted. "But _yes_ , posing as a married couple with Mac was incredibly irritating. All those little things. The socks. The newspaper. Having somebody in my space all the time. It's not for me, Vic. No matter what happens, I need my own space."

"So..." Vic said, "You don't want to marry me and move in together."

"Right," Li Ann said.

"But you'd like to date?" Vic said.

She looked at him. "I _love_ you," she said.

Vic sucked in a shaky breath. "Me too," he said.

He stood up and walked around the table to her. She came to her feet and met him, almost bumping noses. She gave a soft little laugh, and kissed him.

"Can we make love now?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered back.

* * *

Morning.

Li Ann and Vic took adjacent chairs at the briefing table. They snuck grins at each other. They tried to suppress their grins. They lightly, quickly, touched fingers under the table, and then folded their hands in their laps and shot guilty looks in the direction of the Director's stairs.

They waited for anybody else to show up.

After half an hour, Vic started to get bored. And worried.

"Maybe the briefing was cancelled and we missed the memo," Li Ann mused. "Did you check your messages last night?"

"Where's Mac?" Vic said. "He's never more than about ten minutes late."

At that moment, the Director's door opened, and she descended.

"Where is Mac, indeed," she greeted them. "Didn't he spend the night with you?"

"No," Vic said. "Wait, didn't you know that?"

The Director frowned. "This is concerning. He never made it home last night. I assumed he was with you again."

"You _assumed_ ," Vic repeated. "You _don't_ have my place bugged?"

"It was getting too expensive, replacing them every time you found and destroyed them. I gave up," the Director admitted with a sour look.

"Wait—then how did you know that Li Ann and Mac slept at my place Saturday night?" Vic asked.

The Director rolled her eyes. "I have Li Ann's and Mac's apartments bugged, of course. Neither of them went home that night, and I inferred."

"Guys," Li Ann said. "If Mac never made it home last night—he might in trouble."

"That is, indeed, a distinct possibility," the Director agreed. "Knowing Mac, I'd say it's almost certain."

"Shit," Vic said. "Karl. That fucker."

"Karl?" the Director repeated.

"Last night's date," Li Ann said. "He seemed like bad news. But Mac left in a cab, remember?"

Mac left in a cab after revealing that he'd seen Vic and Li Ann's kiss—and that he thought they were back together.

Fuck.

"Well," the Director said, "Start with the cabs. Make some phone calls. Time's a-wasting." She shooed them out of the room.


	8. Dragnet

They split up the list of taxi companies; there were twenty-four operating in the Greater Toronto Area, and Vic and Li Ann hadn't seen the cab that picked up Mac.

"Hi," Vic said into the phone for the eighth or ninth time. "This is Detective Victor Mansfield, Toronto PD. I'm in the process of an investigation and I'm hoping you can help me out. Can you tell me if any of your drivers picked up a fare around 10 Yonge Street at 10:43 last night? Thanks. Okay. I'll hold."

Across the room, Li Ann hung up her phone. "Nothing," she said. "Have you called Speedicab yet?"

Vic shook his head. "I'm on hold with Royal." Just then, the dispatcher came back on the line.

"Yes, I've got a record of that fare," she said. "Dropped off five minutes later at 465 Church Street. Do you need the driver's badge number?"

"Yes, please," Vic said, and he took the info down.

Li Ann was already on her feet. "Where are we going?" she asked as soon as Vic hung up.

"465 Church," he said. "Wait. I know that address..."

Li Ann groaned. "The Unicorn. He went right back to the bar."

"He got kidnapped, didn't he." Vic pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead, trying to stave off the tension headache that was quickly building there. "More than a week of trying, and he finally gets kidnapped the moment he gives us the slip."

"Maybe he just went home with somebody," Li Ann suggested. She sounded like she was grasping at straws. "Harry, maybe? He seemed nice."

"It's almost noon," Vic pointed out. "No way would Mac go this long without calling in, if there was nothing wrong."

"Well, there _is_ something wrong," Li Ann said quietly. "Right? He saw us yesterday morning."

"Right," Vic said. "Jesus." That kiss—and then they'd heard Mac in the bathroom, throwing up. "You think he's mad enough at us to go AWOL?"

Li Ann shook her head. "He's not mad. He's _hurt_. And Mac does stupid things when he's hurt. We shouldn't have let him go off on his own last night."

"We couldn't have followed him if we'd wanted to," Vic reminded her. "We were parked out of sight, and he turned off the tracer in his jacket."

"True," Li Ann acknowledged. "Okay. We can try the bar tonight and see if there's anyone who saw anything."

"We?" Vic said. "It's sort of, um, men only I think."

Li Ann gave him a scathing look. "I'm not staying out of this one, Vic. This is _Mac_ we're looking for."

Vic raised his hands in quick surrender. "Okay, okay. We do this as a team."

* * *

The bar wouldn't open until the evening. While they waited, Vic followed up on the cab driver. That went nowhere—the driver remembered Mac, particularly because he'd given one address and then a block later changed to a different one that required doubling back—but the drop-off at the Unicorn had been uneventful.

Li Ann, meanwhile, had the idea of checking the hospitals. That went nowhere, too—which was sort of a relief, except for how it meant they still didn't know where Mac was.

Then they had the idea of breaking into Mac's apartment to look for clues.

It was a long shot, but neither of them liked sitting around doing nothing when Mac might be in danger.

Li Ann picked the lock to Mac's apartment in about ten seconds flat. Then they split up; Vic headed into the bedroom, while Li Ann scoped out the living room. 

At least searching an apartment was something Vic had experience with. Back in the Narcotics days, he would've been looking for drugs and paraphernalia. Now he had no _idea_ what he might be looking for; he just hoped he'd know it when he saw it.

Overall, Mac's place was pretty spartan. The bedroom had clothes and a bed—that was about it. Condoms and lube tucked in under the socks and underwear in the top drawer of the dresser were about the only indication it wasn't an IKEA showroom. Vic couldn't help comparing it to his own cluttered place—Mac's apartment was a lot more elegant, but it was cold.

Of course, Mac had only been living here for a year. Vic had been settled in the same place for a _decade_ , minus jail time.

He found one item of interest tucked between Mac's mattress and box spring: a thick coil-bound notebook, half full of hand-written Chinese. He brought it out to the living room.

"Here," he said, handing the book to Li Ann, "Can you read this?"

She opened up to a random page in the middle and frowned in concentration for a moment. Then her eyes widened and she snapped it shut. "Vic, this is Mac's _diary_ ," she said, sounding scandalized.

"Yeah, well, I sort of guessed that when I found it hidden under his mattress," Vic admitted. "So, seriously, what does it say?"

"I'm not going to read it," Li Ann said, glaring at Vic. "It would be a violation of his privacy."

"Look, if you're gonna keep a diary, you live with the risk that somebody's going to read it," Vic said, philosophically. "Come on, Li Ann. I know it's a shot in the dark, but if Mac's in danger—and if there's any clue in here that might help us find him ... Just look at the last page, okay?"

She looked troubled, but she opened up to the last page that had writing on it. "There's probably nobody in the world besides me who could even read this," she commented absently as she scanned the page. "His calligraphy is _terrible_. It might as well be in code." Then she shook her head. "This isn't going to help. The last entry is from months ago—he's talking about how he's worried that Michael is going to turn around and betray us." She gave Vic a rueful look. "He thought the rest of us were being duped."

Vic rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, Mac gets a big fat 'I told you so' on that one. But I guess this doesn't help us find him."

Li Ann flipped quickly through the other pages. "Hm," she said.

"Hm what?" Vic said.

"I'm just looking at the dates. The first entry's from around the end of his probationary period with the Agency—just about when we moved back to Toronto. And then ... " she flipped forward through the book, "he writes pretty regularly. Not every day, but close. Up until right before the showdown with Michael—and after that, nothing."

"Okay." Now Vic was starting to get uncomfortable. Mac would probably not be cool with them looking through his diary like this. "You're right, this isn't going to help. I should put it back where I found it."

But Li Ann was scanning the pages intently now, a worry line evident between her eyebrows. "Oh no," she said softly.

"Oh no _what_?" Vic said.

Li Ann closed the book, wincing. "Never mind. I shouldn't have read that. Put it back under his bed and let's pretend this never happened."

"Seriously, you can't do this to me," Vic said. He wasn't sure which was ramping up faster—his anxiety or his curiosity. "Oh no _what_?"

She handed him the notebook. "Put it away," she said. She looked really uncomfortable. 

Vic considered relenting, but the way she was acting made him think that maybe it _was_ something relevant to Mac going missing, and if it was, he needed to know. "Not until you tell me," he insisted.

"It's just that when he caught us kissing yesterday, it may have upset him more deeply than we guessed at first," she said, reluctantly.

"Because he's still in love with you," Vic said. "That's what you read in there?"

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

"That's no big secret, Li Ann." Vic reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "It's gonna be okay. You love him too, right? We'll find him, and we'll straighten all this out."

Vic realized, with a touch of bemusement, that he was starting to take it for granted that they _would_ work out a way for Li Ann to be with both himself and Mac. Like this was a perfectly simple solution to all of their problems, one so blindingly obvious it was incredible they'd never thought of it before.

* * *

They split up after that, each of them heading home to prepare for the next stage of their investigation.

Vic really hoped they caught some kind of break at the Unicorn, because right now it was the only lead they had left.

Li Ann showed up at his door at the pre-arranged time. His breath caught when he saw her. She was dressed in drag.

She'd slicked her hair back and pencilled in a thin black moustache just over her upper lip. She'd done something to totally flatten her chest—wrapped up her breasts, he guessed—and she was wearing a stylish white linen shirt along with a black sports jacket and slacks, and shiny black men's shoes.

"Uh," he stammered. "Um. Nice. I don't think you're going to fool anyone, though. Your face is too pretty."

"If anybody calls me a girl, I'll just twist his arm behind his back until he cries," she deadpanned.

Vic blinked. "All righty then. I guess we're good to go."

* * *

The bar wasn't too crowded when they got there, and the music was playing at a low enough level that conversations didn't have to be shouted. It was 8 p.m. on a Monday night, to be fair. Most of the patrons were probably there for a relaxing drink or two after a day at the office.

Li Ann was obviously on high alert; Vic could tell because she'd gotten extraordinarily calm and quiet.

Vic himself was a little on edge. This was the second time in three days he'd had to walk into a gay bar for Mac's sake, and nothing about the first time helped to make this time easier.

Actually, just walking in here was giving him flashbacks to Mac kissing him, and the frisson of dirty excitement that had provoked.

Every glance in Li Ann's direction was messing with his head, too.

She looked like herself, but she also looked like a _guy_. And it was fucking _hot_.

And she was his lover.

"So, where do we start?" Li Ann asked in a murmur, yanking Vic back to the task at hand.

"I guess we just start showing around his picture, ask if anybody saw him leave last night," he said back in an undertone. "Just ... you know. Try not to look like a cop."

"Easier for me than for you," she pointed out.

"Granted," Vic admitted. And then, with a rush of relief, he spotted someone he knew sitting at the bar. "Hey! It's Harry!"

Harry gave a start when he noticed them approaching. "Oh, hi!" he said with a sort of nervous grin. "Mac's friend. Did Mac tell you about the, uh ... I mean, I'm really sorry about the other night, dude."

"The police report," Vic clarified. "Yeah, he told me. Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge."

Harry looked deeply relieved. "Thanks, dude," he said. "That could've been awkward. Um, hey, I never got your name." He shot a curious look at Li Ann, too.

"Vic," Vic said, offering his hand for a firm, quick shake. "And this is my, uh, partner—" _Damn it_ they should've come up with a cover story ahead of time...

"Lee," Li Ann interrupted quickly, and shook Harry's hand in turn.

"So what brings you two here tonight?" Harry asked. Vic could easily read from Harry's body language that he knew something was up with 'Lee,' but it seemed like he wasn't going to make an issue of it.

"Well," Vic said, "Actually we're looking for Mac."

Harry shrugged. "I haven't seen him tonight. It's early, though."

"The thing is," Vic said, "He's sort of ... _missing_. He never made it home last night."

Harry's eyes widened. "Shit," he said. "You know, guys have been disappearing for months. Everybody's talking about it; everybody's freaked out. That's why I reported _you_ to the police; no offense, but I'd never seen you before and you were acting kind of suspicious that night."

"Yeah. Well, I was just trying to stop Mac from getting himself in trouble," Vic said.

"Good luck with that," Harry said, in a _you're going to need it_ kind of tone. "I mean, he's smoking hot, but ... well, you hear things, you know?"

"What kind of things?" Vic asked. He caught Li Ann's worried expression, and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

"Like he's one of those guys who's not really careful about who he goes home with," Harry said.

"Yeah," Vic said. "You could say that. So what we're trying to find out is, did he go home with somebody last night?"

Harry gave Vic a measuring look. "You really _are_ his friend," he said.

"You sound surprised."

"He just didn't really seem like a guy who had friends." Harry looked thoughtful. "Hey, this may seem like a weird question, but—has he ever been in prison?"

Unsure how to respond, Vic shot a quick _Help me!_ glance at Li Ann.

"Yes," she said gruffly. "But it's better if we don't talk about that." Then she added something in Chinese, a few quick words. Harry paled slightly.

"Hey," Vic said, snapping his fingers near Harry's face. "Back on topic. Did you see Mac last night?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Early in the night. Actually I was looking for him, 'cause of how I thought maybe you'd murdered him and dumped him in Lake Ontario or whatever. Once I saw he was okay, I went home—I wanted to catch the Star Trek movie on Space."

"Okay," Vic said. "Any chance you could help us out here, get us in touch with somebody who might've seen who he left with?"

Harry looked momentarily stymied, and then he brightened. "Oh!" he said. "You should talk to Bob. He knows everybody." He scanned the room, and then pointed out one of the booths near the back. "Yeah, there he is. I'll introduce you."

Bob was an older guy, sixty-ish and grizzled. He was dressed more like Vic than like any of the other guys here—a plaid flannel shirt and well-worn jeans. He scowled at the three of them when they slid into the other side of his booth. "What's up?" he said.

"Bob, this is Vic and Lee," Harry said. "They're looking for Mac. Do you know Mac?"

Vic helpfully slid a photo of Mac out of his breast pocket, and handed it to Bob for examination.

Bob squinted at the photo for a minute, curling up his lip. "Yeah, I seen him 'round," he said. "What, is he missing?"

"Maybe," Vic said. "We're trying to find out if anyone saw him leaving the bar last night."

Bob eyed Vic suspiciously. "You a cop?" he said. "You sound like a cop."

"Not a cop," Vic said. "Just a concerned friend."

"You _should_ be concerned," Bob said. "That one," he tapped Mac's picture, "is headed for trouble. Tomcatting around with every man who gives him a second glance. No self-respect." He shook his head, as if to say _kids these days_.

"Well," Vic felt compelled to say in Mac's defense, "he's had a busy week. That doesn't make him a slut."

"A busy _week_?" Bob hooted. "That what he told you? Boy, that fairy's been comin' round here for _months_. Don't reckon he's gone home alone two nights in a row since Christmas."

Vic shot a shocked glance at Li Ann. She didn't meet his eye, though—she was regarding Bob calmly.

"Did you see him last night?" she asked.

Bob gave her a squinty eye. "And what are _you_?" he said. "Tranny?"

Quick like a striking snake, Li Ann reached across the table and grabbed Bob's hand, twisting it to put pressure on his wrist. Bob's eyes snapped open wide. 

"Did. You. See. Him. Last. Night?" she repeated, twisting his hand just a little bit more on each syllable.

"Yes!" Bob gasped, "Jeez!"

Li Ann relented, slightly.

"Saw him leaving with a tall blond man. Didn't catch his name. Seen _him_ before, but not often. Looks like money."

"Around what time?" Li Ann said.

"Ten, ten-thirty," Bob said. "Let _go_ of me, would ya?"

Li Ann let go. "Karl," she said to Vic.

"You didn't see him again after that?" Vic asked.

Bob shook his head, shooting a wounded look in Li Ann's direction. "I headed home not long after," he said. "It's a long drive."

"Well, thanks anyway," Vic said, retrieving the picture of Mac and pocketing it. "Hey, if you hear or think of anything—" he scrawled his unlisted cell phone number down on a napkin. "Give me a call."

When they'd got out of earshot, Vic said to Harry, "Nice guy, Bob."

Harry shrugged. "He's an asshole. Everybody hates him. But he's here almost every night, and he knows everybody's business."

Vic glanced back at the scowling man, alone again now in his booth. "Who would even talk to him voluntarily?"

"Get a few drinks in him and ask him about his work, and he's actually a riot," Harry said. "He's a large animal vet. He lives maybe an hour north of the city. Get him talking about cows in labour sometime, dude, he'll make you shit yourself laughing."

"Uh, I'll pass," Vic said.

After that, they tried talking to everybody in the bar, starting with the bartender. The results weren't encouraging. A dozen or so people recognized Mac; a handful remembered seeing him the previous night; two others besides Bob remembered seeing him leave with Karl; one guy thought he'd seen Mac around midnight, chatting with a visiting Russian sailor. Nobody remembered seeing Mac leave the bar the second time.

"What was it you said to Harry in Chinese?" Vic remembered to ask Li Ann at one point when they were reasonably alone.

"What happens in Hong Kong stays in Hong Kong," Li Ann said. "I thought it would be better to leave things vague."

As the night wore on, the crowd ebbed and flowed. Vic and Li Ann settled at a table, nursing a beer each and watching for new arrivals they could question.

At midnight things were already slowing down, which wasn't too surprising for a Monday night. Harry and Bob were both long gone. Vic was feeling tired and discouraged.

A couple of new guys came through the door, laughing and chatting. Vic and Li Ann waited until they'd ordered their drinks, and then approached them.

"Hi," Vic said to the nearer guy. "I'm wondering if you might have seen a friend of mine here yesterday. He never made it home last night, and we're worried about him." He held out the picture of Mac.

"Hey," said the second man sharply, touching his companion's arm. "Don't talk to that guy. He's a narc."

"What? No," said Vic, wondering what exactly it was about him that made people keep pegging him for a cop. "I'm just looking for my friend."

"No dude," said the guy who'd called him a narc. He was twenty-something, and he looked Middle Eastern but his accent was pure Toronto. "You're a narc. You busted me eight years ago for holding a fucking ounce of pot. You don't remember? Ruined my fucking life, man. I got kicked out of school, got a record—I'm working as a fucking _janitor_ now, thanks to you."

Well. This was awkward. "I'm not a cop anymore," Vic said gruffly.

The guy eyed him in a hostile kind of way. "Yeah?" he said. "What happened?"

Vic decided to experiment with honesty-is-the-best-policy, from a certain angle. "I got busted," he said. "They found a kilo of coke in my locker."

The guy stared at him for a long moment, and then took a swing at his face.

Li Ann was in the way before Vic could even duck. She deflected the guy's punch and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose. He went down to his knees with a high-pitched moan.

The guy's companion scrambled backwards, giving her a wide-eyed stare. "Are you fucking psycho?" he said.

"For the record," Li Ann said, "I was never a cop." She turned to Vic. "I think it's time to leave."

* * *

This time, they ended up back in Vic's bed without really discussing it. The sex felt different from the night before. 

Last night, Vic had felt like he was floating; his wonder and joy at being back with Li had almost had him laughing out loud.

Tonight their coupling was tinged with guilt, and a feeling of desperation—like they were clinging to each other to stop themselves from drowning.

"I'm scared I'll never see Mac again," was the first thing Li Ann said, after. They were lying together in the dark, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

"We'll find him," Vic reassured her, stroking her hair. "We'll try again tomorrow. _Somebody_ must've seen something."

"That's not what I mean," she said. "I'm scared he _wasn't_ abducted. What if he just ... left?"

"What do you mean?" Vic said.

"Think about it," she said. "What was the sword the Director always had hanging over Mac and me? Why couldn't we ever leave the Agency?"

"The Tangs," Vic realized. He started to see where she was going with this.

She curled her fingers over his chest. "So now there are no more Tangs."

"It's been more than two months since we brought down the Tangs," Vic pointed out.

"Enough time to make an escape plan?" Li Ann said.

"It didn't look like anything was missing when we searched his apartment," Vic said. "And if we believe the Director and her creepy surveillance, he never made it home after the bar."

"He could have had a go bag stashed somewhere," Li Ann suggested.

The way she said it, just offhand like that, made Vic pause. "Do _you_ have one?" he asked.

Her hesitation was long enough that her slightly defensive "Yes," was redundant.

"Since when?" Vic asked.

"Since the beginning," she admitted. "Not in the same place, obviously."

Vic took a moment to think about that. Even though she was lying naked in his arms at the moment, it gave him a feeling of distance between them. Back when they were engaged, she'd kept a bag packed and ready? Been ready to run at a moment's notice? "But you wouldn't have left without saying good-bye," he said finally.

"You don't say 'good-bye' when you're running away from a Shadowy Government Agency," she pointed out a bit wryly.

"Well, okay, not to the Director, sure. But he would have said good-bye to _us_ ," Vic said, because they were talking about Mac, not Li Ann.

"Not if he was running away from us," she said, very quietly.

Vic didn't reply for a moment, and then he just said, "Shit."

Li Ann didn't say anything else for a while. Vic held her, and thought about what she'd said.

He had to admit, her worry seemed well-founded.

After all, the whole Mac-as-bait plan had been a bit sketchy from the beginning. If the kidnappers were even still working, what was to stop them from snatching some other poor shmuck instead of Mac? Nothing, that's what. And Mac had been _trying_ to get kidnapped all week. What were the odds that he'd finally get taken just at the exact worst time, when Vic and Li Ann weren't there to help?

Murphy's Law notwithstanding, it did seem a lot more likely that Mac had decided to leave after seeing Vic and Li Ann's kiss.

Not that leaving your entire life behind and going on the run from a Shadowy Government Agency without even _talking_ to anybody about it first was a proportionate response to seeing your (best) friend kiss the woman you (still, obviously) loved. But if one thing had become clear to Vic over the past week, it was that Mac had not been in a good place since Michael died. So it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine Mac hastily making a dramatic, life-altering choice that there was no coming back from.

Not like it would be a first, for Mac.

"A year ago," Li Ann said suddenly, "If Mac had run away leaving the two of us together, you would have thrown a party."

Vic sucked in a sheepish breath. "Yeah," he conceded. "Well, you gotta admit, he threw _my_ life for a loop."

"What about now?" she asked. There was ... _something_ in her tone. Something Vic couldn't quite figure out.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"If he's gone," she said, in that very careful way she spoke when she was trying not to lose control. "How would you feel?"

Vic tried to imagine never seeing Mac again. The thought was surprisingly painful. "Awful," he admitted. "I think we made a huge mistake not talking to him about what was happening between us."

"If we find him—" she started.

" _When_ ," Vic interrupted.

"When," she agreed. "Promise that we'll talk. All three of us."

"All three of us?" Vic said. "I mean, really, the two of us are okay now, right? It's you and Mac who have to figure things out."

"All three of us," she said, emphatically.

"All right," Vic said. He kissed her forehead. "I promise."


	9. Vic Never Likes The Plan

The Director called them into the Agency the next day at noon.

"Good news," she said. "We may have a break in the case. Russell's gone missing."

Jackie cracked her gum and frowned. "You mean Bradley?" she said. "I thought we had that sad sack in a locked ward."

"Bradley, sadly, is indeed under lock and key until he's no longer a danger to himself," the Director said. "But early this morning, _Russell_ was reported missing. The building manager at the church was sufficiently concerned when he didn't show up to work on Sunday or Monday that she contacted the police." She slid a file folder across the table so that it stopped between Li Ann and Vic. "Go talk to her," she said.

"What about me?" Jackie asked.

"You might be recognised, since you've been around the church. How about you see if you can scare up any security footage from buildings near the Unicorn?"

"The police tried that after the last disappearance there three months ago," Vic reminded her. "There weren't any cameras anywhere near the bar."

The Director shrugged. "You never know. Maybe somebody's installed one."

* * *

The Crossroads Church of Jesus Christ the Peoples' Saviour, Etobicoke branch, was located on a bleak commercial street. The building, being concrete and not especially pretty, probably dated from the sixties. Vic knew the Crossroads church was newer than that; the discrepancy was explained when he noticed the words "Anglican Church of Canada, 1962" set straight into the concrete of a block near the door.

The front doors were locked, so they rang the doorbell. After a short delay, the doors were opened by a middle-aged woman in a blue business suit. "Can I help you?" she said.

"Detectives Mansfield and O'Grady, Toronto PD," Vic said, and both he and Li Ann held up their totally legitimate-looking police ID cards. "Are you Jolene Baker?"

"Yes," said the woman. "You're here about Russell?"

Vic nodded, and tucked his ID back in his pocket. He always got weird twinges when he had to use the police ID. Unlike Li Ann's (and Mac's), Vic's had his real name—and in fact his real badge number, from when he'd actually been on the force. As far as he understood it, records somewhere had been changed so that his using it wouldn't raise any red flags.

"Come in," the woman said. She was already shivering a little in the cold air. "My office is downstairs."

They followed her into a cramped office in the chilly basement of the church. She seated them in a couple of wooden chairs and offered them tea, which they turned down.

"So, you reported Russell missing this morning," Li Ann prompted.

"Yes," Jolene agreed, folding her hands nervously on her lap. "It may be nothing, you know? But when he didn't show up for work today, for the third day in a row, and he wasn't answering his phone, I went down to his apartment and asked his landlord to take a look. He wasn't there, either."

"Is this unusual for him?" Vic asked. He'd pulled out a little flip-pad to take notes—partly to maintain his cover, and partly in the hopes that they actually _would_ learn something useful here.

"Yes," she said. "Well. He hasn't worked here very long. It was three months last week. But he's been very reliable all that time. And the thing is..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"Yes?" Li Ann prompted.

"It's only that it's confidential. I don't want him to get into trouble," she said.

"He won't," Vic assured her. "We're only interested in finding him."

"Well, Robert—he's the one who asked me to give Russell a job in the first place—Robert told me that Russell has had some problems with drugs. He's in recovery now, that's what Robert said, and he asked me not to say anything to anyone, on account of how it's a sensitive topic and a man deserves a fresh start, but ... well, you can see how I'd worry about Russell when suddenly he drops off the face of the earth." She looked at them, plaintively.

"Is Robert a member of this church?" Li Ann asked. Her expression didn't give much away, but Vic knew she'd just made the same connection he had—if Robert was the one who had brought Bradley to the church, then he had to be involved with the kidnappings.

"Oh, no, not a regular member," Jolene said. "He visits once in a while."

"Is there a way we can get in touch with him?" Vic asked.

"Oh, yes, I have a phone number," Jolene said. "I already called him this morning to ask if he'd heard from Russell, though, and he said he hadn't."

"Well, it still might help us to talk to him," Vic said. "Maybe he can give us something to go on."

* * *

As soon as they got back out to the car, Vic pulled out his cell phone and called Nathan at the Agency.

"I need a reverse look-up on this number," he said, and reeled off the digits Jolene had given him. "A.S.A.P."

He heard the clicking of a keyboard in the background, and then Nathan said, "Got it. Doctor Robert Campbell. 216, Rural Route #3, Cedar Valley. That's about an hour's drive north of Toronto."

Vic repeated the info to Li Ann.

"A doctor," she mused. "Bradley said he was drugged—a doctor would have easy access to drugs."

"I think we'd better head out there right away," Vic said. "Jolene already told him this morning that Russell's gone missing, so he might be getting skittish."

They gassed up the car, pulled out an Ontario map, and hit the road.

* * *

Doctor Campbell's place was an isolated bungalow deep into farm country. It seemed to stand on a pretty big lot, and there were a couple of outbuildings farther back from the road.

It was about five degrees colder here than it had been in the city, but Vic and Li Ann kept their jackets unzipped so they could reach their guns if they needed to. Vic's fingers were already starting to feel numb when he pressed the doorbell.

They heard footsteps, and the door opened.

"Hi," Vic started, and then he took in the grizzled, familiar face of the man who'd opened the door.

Bob. It was Bob, from the bar.

Bob's eyes widened at the sight of Vic, and he started to slam the door in his face.

Vic kicked out, stopping the door from closing. Simultaneously he grabbed his gun. "Freeze!" he yelled.

Rather than freezing, Bob made a dash back into his house. Li Ann flew past Vic and dropped Bob with a kick to the head right before he reached the rifle that was leaning against an inside wall.

At that point Li Ann drew her gun, too, and she and Vic quickly checked the rest of the rooms of the house. Finding nobody else, they returned to the front room where Bob was out cold on the floor.

Vic shut the front door, while Li Ann checked Bob's pulse.

"He's alive," she confirmed.

"Let's put him in the bedroom and check the other buildings," Vic said.

They secured Bob's hands and feet with zip ties in case he woke up, and put him under the covers in his own bed. That way, if somebody else came in they might not _immediately_ realize that something was up.

There were two outbuildings. They broke into the closer, smaller one first. It turned out to be a tool shed; there was a ride-on mower, along with a well-stocked workbench. Nothing untoward.

The second, larger outbuilding was made of sturdy concrete with small windows high up. It had a barn-sized door—currently barricaded, padlocked, and also blocked by a metre-high snowdrift—as well as an ordinary door. The path to the second door was clear. Li Ann quickly picked the lock on the regular door, muttering and blowing on her fingers.

The door opened outwards. Li Ann signalled and then yanked it open; Vic went through and ducked quickly to the side, gun in hand.

Inside, the building was one big room, but with a row of empty cattle stalls running down the middle—it really _was_ a barn. The light inside was dim and Vic blinked, trying to adjust his vision from the bright sunlit snow outside. He couldn't see anyone, but he sure as hell _heard_ somebody.

"AND THE LORD SAID, THOU ART AN ABOMINATION, FOR THOU HAST LAIN WITH MANKIND AS WITH WOMANKIND. I CAST THEE FORTH INTO THE FIRES OF HELL AND CONSIGN THEE TO EVERLASTING TORMENT."

Vic wished for earplugs. There had to be a sound system rigged up; the voice was coming from all around, and it was so loud he could feel his collarbone vibrating. It sounded like a recording of some Southern Baptist preacher, not that Vic was a connoisseur of the genre.

He motioned to Li Ann that she should come in, and they started cautiously circling the room, guns at the ready.

Half-way around, Vic spotted something in one of the cattle stalls. At first glance it wasn't clear what he was seeing, but when he stepped closer the shape resolved itself into the form of a man: sitting on the floor of the stall, slouched against a support pole, with a burlap sack tied over his head. His hands were handcuffed behind the pole.

Vic thought it might be Mac, but he couldn't be sure yet.

"Li Ann!" he called out, shouting to make himself heard over the ongoing hellfire sermon. When he got her attention, he pointed into the stall.

Her eyes widened. She holstered her gun, and ducked quickly into the stall. Vic kept his own gun out; it seemed there was nobody else in the barn, but he didn't want to be taken by surprise.

Li Ann had crouched down and touched the shoulder of the captive man. "Mac?!" she said.

Suddenly the man sprang to his feet and kicked at Li Ann. His hands came free—the handcuffs hadn't been secure. Li Ann, off balance and partially caught by the kick, stumbled sideways and narrowly evaded a punch.

Vic had the sudden thought that maybe this was all a trap. Maybe Jolene had called ahead, warning Bob that they were coming.

"Freeze!" he yelled. "I have a gun!"

But the man with the sack over his head couldn't see Vic and presumably couldn't hear him, either, what with the preacher still ranting at maximum volume all around them.

Also, if this was a trap it was a really stupid one, since as soon as Li Ann regained her balance she had no trouble gaining the advantage over a man with a bag on his head. She caught one of the guy's arms, and in a quick motion she had him pinned against the side of the stall. The guy was kind of jerking spasmodically against her hold but he couldn't break free.

"Vic!" Li Ann yelled. "The bag!"

Vic tucked his gun back in his holster—after one more cautious look around—and pulled out his pocket knife. Flicking it open, he carefully approached and with one sharp cut severed the cord that was holding the burlap sack around the guy's neck.

He yanked the bag off the guy's head, and found himself looking into Mac's wide, startled eyes.

"Oh jeez," Mac said. "It's you guys."

Li Ann dropped the submission hold, and Mac turned around to face her, bracing himself against the edge of the stall. "Good news!" he said, giving them both a sort of erratic grin around chattering teeth. "I found the kidnappers."

Li Ann grabbed Mac and kissed him.

The kiss went on long enough that Vic found himself blushing, clearing his throat, and looking back towards the open door. Outside, it was still all bright sunlit snow—nothing was moving.

Then Li Ann backed a step away from Mac, and Mac raised a shaking hand to his lips, looking like he really didn't know what just hit him.

"Uh, hi," he said. "I missed you too."

At that point Mac turned questioningly towards Vic, and Vic found himself stepping in and grabbing Mac in a tight hug. He noticed that Mac's shirt was damp, and that Mac was trembling violently. "Jesus, Mac," he muttered into his partner's ear, "We thought we'd lost you."

"Let's get him out of here," Li Ann said, leaning in close so Vic could hear her.

"Right," Vic said, letting go of Mac.

"Wait," Mac said. "Did you get them both?"

Li Ann shook her head. "There was only one man in the house."

"Old guy or young guy?" Mac asked.

"Old. Have you seen their faces?" Vic asked.

Mac shook his head. "Not the old guy. The young guy's the one who picked me up at the bar; I think I'd know him if I saw him again. The old guy, I only ever heard his voice."

"Well you might recognise him," Vic said. "We met him at the Unicorn when we were looking for you. Cranky old asshole by the name of Bob."

"Bob the _vet_?" Mac said. "Seriously? But he spends, like, every night of the week hanging out at gay bars."

"That must be how they do it," Li Ann said. "Bob gets to know everybody, and then he sends the other guy in when he's picked a target."

"If you pull me out of here now, the other guy'll find me gone and he'll go to ground," Mac said. "We'll never catch him."

"Oh jeez," Vic said. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, it's a terrible idea and we're not doing it."

"Help me get back in position," Mac said. "Sack over my head, hands cuffed around that pole. Like you found me. The other guy'll show up eventually to play his head games with me, and then—wham!—I'll take him out."

"Like you took me out?" Li Ann asked, drily.

"Well, you can actually fight. I don't think kidnapper-dude knows kung fu. Anyway, now I've got you two to back me up."

Li Ann looked thoughtful. "We'd have to do something about my car," she said. "Get it out of sight. And there's Bob. If the other guy sees him, he might just run—we'll have to hide him better."

"Wait," Vic said, "You're not taking this suggestion seriously, are you? Mac's a _mess_ —no offense," he added. But Mac's eyes were hollow, his skin was clammy, and he didn't even seem like he could stand up on his own—since the hug, he'd been quietly leaning against Vic, shaking like a leaf.

"You got a better plan?" Mac asked.

Vic glanced towards the entrance, thought about the sight lines. Mac would've been visible—barely—as soon as they came through the door if they'd known where to look for him. "Stick me down there in your place," Vic said. "It's not like we have to fool him for very _long_."

"Bad idea," Mac said. "Actually, sitting on the floor with a bag over your head is not a good position to start a fight from. Believe me, I just tried it. We're better off if you're hiding behind the stalls. Get him when he comes in here."

"I do not like this plan," Vic said.

"You never like the plan," Mac pointed out.

Vic sighed, but he knew he was beat. If they let the other guy get away after all this, the Director would have their hides. "Okay," he said. "We'll do it your way." He stepped away from Mac—bent down to grab the burlap sack, which had ended up on the floor—and suddenly Mac was falling. Li Ann shouted a warning, and both she and Vic managed to grab Mac before he hit the concrete. They ended up all three tangled together, Vic on his knees with Mac's head on his shoulder and Li Ann's arms around the both of them.

"Shit," Mac said.

"What happened?" Li Ann asked, sounding worried now.

"Think it's the drugs," Mac said. "Some kind of tranq, probably. I remember a sting in my arm."

They got back to their feet, Mac accepting Vic and Li Ann's supporting hands. "It's okay," he added. "I'm just a bit loopy. It's hard to stand. Probably best if the two of you do the actual fighting. Just help me back to my pillar?"

"This is a _bad_ idea," Vic repeated as they helped Mac the five steps across the stall. "You're drugged, you're freezing—why are you _wet_?"

Mac shrugged. "They hose me down once in a while. Look, you guys better hurry and hide the car—I think it's been a while since either of them checked on me. I haven't really figured out their routine. How long have I been here, anyway? Four, five days?"

"Uh, not even two," Vic said.

"Fuck," Mac said. "Felt a lot longer."

And, well, that was just one more thing to worry about, but they were committed to the plan now. Li Ann settled the handcuffs carefully around Mac's wrists, so they looked like they were fastened but really weren't. Vic put the burlap sack back over Mac's head and tied it loosely with what was left of the cord. When they were done, he looked just like he had when they found him—slumped against the support post, legs tucked up against his body, covered head hanging low.

They didn't know how much time they had before the second man showed up, so at that point Vic and Li Ann hurried to hide Li Ann's car and Bob. They also made a quick call to the Director, to let her know what was up; she told them she'd send Murphy and Camier to wait off-site with a van in case they needed help with the cleanup.

Once that was done, they returned to the barn and locked themselves in with Mac. 

To keep themselves completely out of sight of the entrance, Vic and Li Ann had to crouch at the other end of the barn, on the far side of all the cattle stalls. From there, they couldn't see either Mac or the door. Vic hoped they'd be able to tell somehow when the guy came in; with the hellfire sermon still going full volume, they probably wouldn't _hear_ him.

And then they waited.

And waited.

And ... waited.

It's not like Vic was unfamiliar with the _waiting, waiting and yet more waiting_ aspect of police and/or secret agent work. If he had to put a number to it, he'd guess that maybe three quarters of his working time was spent on stake-outs.

Normally, though, he got to wait somewhere reasonably comfortable. Like his truck, or the listening van, or maybe a café. And he had Mac or Li Ann to chat with to pass the time.

Well, Li Ann was crouching at his side right now, clutching her gun and occasionally shifting her position to keep her legs from going to sleep. But conversation was basically impossible over the booming of the preacher's voice. Vic wondered idly if they were going to sustain permanent hearing damage from this job, and whether the Agency paid out workers' comp.

After about ten minutes, Vic gave up crouching and just settled his butt down on the cold concrete floor. He leaned back against the side of the last cattle stall. He wasn't nimble like Li Ann was; no way could he maintain a ready position for as long as this was apparently going to take. He rested his gun on his bent knees and tried to ignore the preacher, who was currently rambling on in gruesome detail about boiling the eyeballs of sodomites.

By the end of an hour, Vic's butt was completely numb, he had a pounding headache, and despite his jacket he was shivering. The barn _was_ being heated somehow—it was a lot warmer in here than outside—but it was still well below a comfortable room temperature.

Remembering that Mac was dressed in nothing but the thin shirt and slacks he'd worn out to the bar two nights ago, which were _damp_ besides, Vic wished he could go over and give Mac his jacket. In fact, he wished he could get Mac the hell out of here.

He wished he could get _himself_ the hell out of here—he was miserably uncomfortable. But he couldn't forget that Mac had already endured two days of this crap.

And Bradley Black had been held here for a _month_.

Vic sucked up his discomfort, and tried to stay alert.

He couldn't tune out the sermon, so he started listening to it—at least it was some kind of entertainment.

The preacher sure did hate gay men. He had the occasional nasty word to say about lesbians, too, but mostly he seemed maniacally obsessed with the idea of guys sticking their penises into each other. Not that he said the word 'penis,' ever—he was full of euphemisms for body parts and sex acts, but he liked to get really _really_ specific when he got into describing the torture homosexuals could expect to undergo in Hell.

The visceral hate, played at high volume, was shocking. Vic had never heard its like before.

And yet ... Vic remembered, uncomfortably, tossing the word 'faggot' out as a casual insult in locker-room conversations, back when he'd been on the force.

Mac and Li Ann never talked that way, and so neither did Vic anymore. But he hadn't really had to _think_ about it until he'd been confronted with Mac's bisexuality—that unexpected kiss, and then seven nights straight of listening to Mac seduce, and subsequently fuck or get fucked by, strange men.

So okay, yeah, that had made Vic uncomfortable. And one of the most uncomfortable things about it was the fact that it _hadn't_ disgusted him. He'd hated the fact that they were basically pimping Mac out for a case and the Director was forcing himself and Li Ann to be accomplices—but even so, listening to Mac have sex with strange men had turned Vic on. _Way_ more than he wanted to admit.

And he knew (feared) that an actual 100% straight man would not have had that reaction.

An actual 100% straight man would not have enjoyed Mac's drunken kiss the night Vic had gone in to pull him out of the bar, either, and if Vic was going to be honest with himself, _yes_ he had enjoyed that kiss.

So maybe Vic wasn't an actual 100% straight man. And in the face of the preacher's ongoing fiery threats of damnation for all queers, Vic actually found himself defiantly looking back on his own life and pulling out more bits of evidence. That one time he'd beaten off to a gay porno as a teenager. His crush—yes, his crush!—on his favourite instructor at the police academy.

The fact that since he found out Mac was gay, he kept thinking about touching him.

Take that, hellfire preacher guy.


	10. Pick Up the Pieces and Go Home

Three and a half utterly miserable hours later, round about seven p.m., the barn lights suddenly flicked on and the preacher cut off right in the middle of a howling 'Alleluia'.

Vic's ears rang in the silence. Li Ann touched his shoulder and put a warning finger to her lips.

There were footsteps. Heavy boots on concrete. Vic tensed, and so did Li Ann beside him. They wouldn't wait long, but they had to ensure their target had moved far enough from the entrance that he couldn't make it back out before they got to him.

Vic was entirely prepared to shoot to kill if he had to, but he was so cold that he couldn't be confident of making a shot across the length of the barn.

They heard a metallic squeak, and the sound of something dragging across concrete. Then a male voice: "Time to wake up, Mac!" and the sound of spattering, splashing liquid.

Li Ann signalled Vic with her head, and they both stood up fast, levelling their guns.

What they saw was a stocky blond man in a bandit-style mask aiming a high-pressure hose at Mac from the edge of his stall.

The man hadn't noticed them yet, so they moved—each of them taking the opposite route around the stalls, so that they'd catch the guy in a pincer between them.

The man saw Li Ann first. He startled, shouted an obscenity, and aimed the water spray at her. While he was doing that, Vic drew level with him and poked the barrel of his gun into the back of the guy's ribcage.

"Freeze," Vic said, with relish. "You're under arrest."

The guy dropped the hose. It snaked its way around the floor, sending ice-cold spray in all directions. The guy raised his hands, which were suddenly trembling.

"I want to talk to my lawyer," the guy said.

Mac, meanwhile, had pulled the bag off his head and was struggling to his feet with the aid of the post he'd been cuffed to. Glaring fiercely at his former captor, Mac took three unsteady steps and brought himself within arm's reach.

"We aren't the police," Mac said, and decked the guy.

The man fell straight down. Mac seemed like he was about to go down too, but Vic made a grab for his arm and caught him.

"Thanks," Mac said. "I needed that."

Li Ann, meanwhile, had managed to turn off the hose. "All right," she said. "Let's get out of here."

The first thing they did was head into the house and make sure that Bob was still securely bound and gagged in the basement. He was, although he'd woken up and was spitting mad.

The next thing they did was call Murphy and Camier to come with the van and pick up the two prisoners.

The third thing they did was raid Bob's closet. Vic had escaped the worst of the spray from the hose, but Li Ann and Mac were both dripping wet.

"Actually," Mac said, "I want a shower first. A hot shower."

"That's probably a good idea," Li Ann said, eyeing him up and down. Mac was huddled on Bob's bed for the moment, with the bedspread wrapped around him. "It's a long drive back to Toronto." She didn't have to add that he smelled like the floor of a barn—they were all aware.

Mac shrugged off the blanket and threw his legs over the side of the bed, preparing to stand up. Vic, anticipating the inevitable, made it across the room and caught Mac before he toppled over.

"Okay," Vic said, slinging Mac's arm over his shoulder, "you're gonna need a little help."

Li Ann gave Vic a grateful look. "I'll stay with these guys," she said.

The Cleaners hadn't arrived yet, so the two erstwhile kidnappers were tucked into the two far corners of the room where the agents could keep an eye on them. Both were now securely zip-tied and gagged; Bob's eyes were bugging out with rage, while the other guy, who had regained consciousness quickly, was spilling silent tears.

"If they give you any trouble, just shoot them in the head," Vic suggested—mostly for the pleasure of seeing them flinch.

Mac was still shivering violently, as he had been the whole time. Vic eased him into the bathroom, and leaned him against the wall so he could help him with his clothes—there was no question of Mac managing his own buttons.

"A bath might be a better plan," Vic said. "Easier. I think you're hypothermic, you shouldn't be moving around so much."

Mac shook his head. "Shower. Gotta be a shower. Wash off the filth."

"Jesus," Vic said. He'd just opened up Mac's shirt. Mac had bright purple bruises running up and down his torso, like somebody had kicked the hell out of him.

Which was probably exactly what had happened. Fuck.

Mac, catching Vic's reaction, glanced down at himself. "Huh," he said. "Looks a lot worse than it feels. Don't worry about it. Don't tell Li Ann, okay?"

"You're an idiot," was Vic's only comment. He kept working on getting Mac's clothes off him. Mac's arms and legs were bruised too, with what looked like defensive injuries—Vic imagined Mac curled up on that dirty concrete floor, trying to shield his body from the blows. _Fuck_.

Soon Mac was naked. He was still propped up against the wall and shivering. Vic figured he'd better get him into a warm shower as soon as possible, but that presented a logistical problem that he hadn't entirely thought through ahead of time—Mac was in no shape to stand unaided in the shower.

Well, there was a simple solution.

Vic quickly started to strip his own clothes off.

"Oh," Mac said, his eyes widening. Apparently he hadn't thought through the logistics ahead of time, either. "Vic, are you really ... ?—Yes you are, oh Jesus."

"Is this a problem?" Vic asked gruffly, suddenly conscious of the awkwardness of the situation. He'd actually expected Mac to just take this in stride; now Mac's stammering discomfort was triggering Vic's own embarrassment.

"No!" Mac said, a little too loud and fast. "It's okay."

It was best not to linger over the moment. Vic went and turned on the shower. Then he helped Mac step into the bathtub and under the spray.

And then they stood there together, naked, arms around each other, letting the warm water wash over them.

Vic decided quickly that this experience was _not_ erotic. Not with Mac shivering in his arms and bruised all over.

It was intimate, though, that was for damn sure.

After a couple of minutes, Mac's shivering started to subside.

"Hey," Vic said. "Will you be okay on your own for a minute if you hold on to the wall?"

Mac nodded. Vic let go of him carefully, making sure he wasn't going to fall. Then Vic got out of the shower and hunted through the bathroom until he found a clean washcloth, and soap.

Getting back into the tub, he said to Mac, "I'm going to clean you. Is that okay?"

Mac nodded. His eyes were closed against the spray of water.

So Vic soaped up the cloth and—carefully—started washing Mac's body.

"Li Ann," Mac said suddenly without opening his eyes. "Did she kiss me?"

"Yeah," Vic said. He remembered that Mac had said earlier that he was drugged. He wondered to what extent Mac had registered everything that had happened since they found him. His speech seemed coherent enough—just a little slurred, at times. "She loves you," Vic added, not sure if now was the right time but damn it, they'd put it off long enough. "She was frantic with worry while you were missing."

Mac gave a shaky laugh. "It was only two days," he said.

"She—we were worried," Vic said, concentrating on soaping gently around the bruises. "We were worried that you'd run away."

"Huh?" Mac said, seeming to take that as a genuinely puzzling suggestion. "But where would I go?"

"I don't know," Vic said. "But the last thing you said to us...."

"What was that?" Mac said. "I don't remember."

"You told us to have fun. Called us lovebirds."

"Oh," Mac said. "Did I get that one wrong? I've been wrong before."

"No," Vic said. "Uh, I mean yes. It's complicated. We need to talk. Later. When Li Ann's around."

"Okay," Mac agreed passively, and Vic realized that Mac really _was_ drugged—or maybe it was exhaustion or hypothermia, or a combination of all three, but for sure his reactions were damped down from what they'd normally be.

By that point Vic had finished washing most of Mac. He'd given a wide berth to Mac's cock, which he nevertheless couldn't help but notice was half hard. Which was pretty surprising, considering Mac's general state.

Or maybe not; it had to be an automatic physical reaction to being intimately touched. Mac was a 26-year-old guy, after all, and being put through the wringer didn't change that.

Vic carefully, politely, ignored Mac's cock and his own equally-unmentionable growing erection. "I think you're all clean," he said. "Let's rinse off and get back to Li Ann."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the two kidnappers had been handed over to the Cleaners, and the three agents were headed back to Toronto.

Li Ann and Mac were wearing the best outfits they'd been able to put together from Bob's closet; he was shorter and stockier than either one of them, so the pants situation was sub-optimal, but Vic privately thought that the two of them looked kind of cute in matching plaid flannel shirts.

Li Ann was driving, and Mac was riding shotgun. Vic was in the back on the driver's side, leaning forward as far as he could so that he didn't miss a word of the conversation.

"What were you _thinking_ , going back to that bar by yourself?" Li Ann was asking, testily.

"I was thinking I'd like to have just one date that _wasn't_ part of an undercover sting operation," Mac said, scowling. "Find somebody _nice_ to go home with. Maybe Harry. He seemed like he might be into me."

"You told him you were a Triad gangster," Li Ann pointed out.

"He went home early that night," Vic added informationally. "To watch Star Trek. I think Harry's kind of a nerd."

Mac snorted, and glanced back over his shoulder at Vic. "Jealous, Vic?"

Vic socked Mac (gently) on the shoulder to let him know what he thought of that idea.

At the same time, Vic reeled inside.

Because holy crap yes, that feeling he'd just felt when Mac mentioned Harry could best be described as a jealous pang.

Vic was glad that he was in the back, where Li Ann and Mac couldn't properly see him.

"So instead you left with the kidnapper," Li Ann said. Her grip on the steering wheel had gone white-knuckled. Vic wondered whether he should ask her to pull over and let him drive.

"Well, yeah," Mac conceded, letting his head loll back against the headrest.

"Did _he_ seem nice?" Li Ann bit out.

"Actually I pretty much twigged right away that he was the kidnapper," Mac said. "His vibe was off. He came on really strong, asked me to go home with him after we'd been talking for like, less than a minute, but he was afraid of touching me."

"Wait," Vic said. "You _knew_? Then why the hell did you leave with him?"

"Well that was the _mission_ , wasn't it?"

"The _mission_ was, you were supposed to get kidnapped while Li Ann and I were outside to back you up!" Vic realized he was shouting. He took a deep breath.

"Well I wasn't exactly going to ask the guy to come back later, was I?" Mac justifiably retorted. "'Excuse me, it's my night off, could you please come back and kidnap me tomorrow when my partners are on duty?' Right. Anyway, I figured I could handle it."

"You were handling it great when we showed up," Vic muttered.

"I _was_ ," Mac said. "I'd slipped out of the cuffs, right? I totally would've had the guy the next time he came into the barn."

"Yeah, and then his partner would've come out with his rifle and _shot_ you." Vic shuddered.

"Well, it's good that you guys showed up when you did," Mac conceded. "I didn't actually mean to get _all_ the way kidnapped. I thought I'd just wait till the guy made his move—you know, make sure he really was the kidnapper—and then I'd take him out. I just didn't realize his accomplice was hiding under a blanket in the back seat. He stabbed me in the neck with something and I was out like a light."

"Mac," Li Ann said very gently, "You're an idiot."

"Vic already mentioned that," Mac said. He sounded a little sheepish now.

Suddenly Li Ann signalled right and pulled off onto the gravel shoulder.

"Uh, Li Ann?" Vic said. "Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?"

Li Ann didn't answer. She cut the engine, engaged the parking brake, and flicked on the four-way flashers.

"Li Ann?" Mac said.

"Mac," Li Ann repeated, her voice cracking, "You're an _idiot_."

And then she hunched over the steering wheel and sobbed.

Vic couldn't remember ever hearing Li Ann cry before—anyway, definitely not like this. Deep, wracking sobs gripped her whole body. She huddled over the steering wheel, shaking. Suddenly the horn sounded—she'd accidentally bumped it. She jerked away from the wheel, covered her face with her hands and continued to sob.

"I'm sorry, Li Ann," Mac was saying desperately. "I'm so sorry. I'll never do it again. I promise." He clearly didn't know what to do with his hands—he kept reaching towards her and pulling back again.

Vic had already taken off his seatbelt. Now he shifted and leaned forward into the gap between the two front seats. He put one hand on Li Ann's shoulder, and the other hand on Mac's. "Shut up, Mac," he advised.

Surprisingly, Mac did exactly what Vic said—he shut up. Vic felt Mac's body trembling, and Li Ann was still heaving with uncontrollable sobs. She reached one hand across her body to clutch Vic's hand on her shoulder, and on the other side Mac did the same thing.

Nobody said anything for a while. There was only the sound of Li Ann's shaking, gasping breaths.

Gradually her sobs subsided.

It was almost pitch dark—there was light from the dashboard, and the flashing of the blinkers outside, and that was all. It was an overcast night and they were far from any towns. There was no traffic on the road.

Then suddenly Vic heard sirens in the distance—and getting closer. Soon he saw flashing lights. And then they went screaming by—one, two, three, four squad cars. Hard to see the markings at night, but they looked like the provincial police.

"Think that was for us?" Mac said, breaking their own silence.

Li Ann sniffled. "Probably. The Director would've called them to take over the crime site once we were off it."

Vic was still clutching both Li Ann's and Mac's shoulders. By now Li Ann's breathing was steady, but Vic realized that Mac was starting to shake again. The temperature in the car had dropped precipitously since the engine had been off.

"You know what?" Vic said. "You two get in the back seat. I'll drive the rest of the way."

Neither of them questioned him—they followed his orders as though they were sleepwalking. At least Mac managed the shift unassisted, which Vic counted as a win.

Vic meanwhile popped the trunk and fished out Li Ann's emergency blanket. He brought it to the back seat and tucked it around the two of them. "Keep each other warm, okay?" he said. "We'll be home in forty-five minutes."

Li Ann shot him a grateful look with red-rimmed eyes. Mac's expression had gone glassy; Vic thought Mac was probably about done in for the night.

Indeed, on the road a minute later when he checked the rear-view mirror, Vic saw Mac slumped against Li Ann, fast asleep. Her arms were around him, and she was staring out the window, apparently deep in thought.

Vic turned on the radio to a classic rock station, low volume, and headed for Toronto.

* * *

When they hit the Don Valley, they started to argue again.

Mac had woken up and objected to Vic's plan to stop at the nearest hospital.

"I'm _fine_ ," he said.

Vic snorted in disbelief.

"Okay, I'm not exactly fine," Mac conceded. "But all I want is to go _home_. I spent the last forty-eight hours handcuffed on the floor of a barn listening to the non-stop All Hell All Night marathon channel. I just want to crawl into my own bed and put a pillow over my head and soak in the silence."

"He probably needs rest more than anything," Li Ann weighed in. "I'm not sure a hospital would be much help at this point."

"You didn't see him with his shirt off," Vic said grimly.

"It's seriously not that bad," Mac said. "And you know how it is when you go into the E.R. and you're not dying. We'd be there all night."

Vic sighed, and admitted that Mac had a point.

"Thank _God_ ," Mac said. "So just drop me off at home."

"Uh, no," Vic said. "You're not spending tonight alone."

Mac frowned. "What?"

"I'm not just going to drop you off. Somebody's going to stay with you." Vic met Li Ann's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Right?"

Li Ann nodded. Her arms were still wrapped protectively around Mac.

"Come _on_ you guys," Mac said, sounding irritated. "It's not like with Bradley. I was only there for two days and I knew what was going on. I'm not going to suddenly change my name and start speaking in tongues."

"When we first got to you," Vic said, "you thought it had been four or five days."

Mac scowled. "It's hard to tell time with a bag over your head, okay? And I told you, they were drugging me."

"Which is another very good reason we shouldn't leave you alone tonight," Vic pointed out.

"Vic, take a hint," Mac said angrily. "I don't _want_ you at my place tonight."

"What about me?" Li Ann asked quietly.

Mac hesitated, deflating. But then he shook his head. "Look, you guys, I really want to be alone."

Vic considered it for a moment. Should they respect Mac's wishes? Leave him alone to lick his wounds?

And the answer was: a big, resounding _NO_. Last time they left Mac alone to work through his issues in peace, he got kidnapped and locked in a barn.

"It doesn't matter what you want," Vic said—cheerfully now, because having decided to ignore Mac's wishes he felt strangely liberated. "We're staying at your place tonight."

Mac, apparently sensing that there was no point in arguing with Vic any more about this, shrunk down a little more in Li Ann's arms. "Well," he muttered, "You can both sleep on the damn couch."

* * *

When they got to Mac's place, Mac literally went straight to his bed and climbed in with his clothes—Bob's clothes—still on. "Turn off the lights, would you?" he muttered, and pulled his pillow over his head.

In the living room, Vic turned to Li Ann. It was only a little after nine o'clock. "Listen," he said, "I'm going to go home and pack an overnight bag. Do you want me to get anything for you?"

She handed him her key ring. "Clothes," she said. "Pyjamas, toothbrush, hairbrush, tampons."

"Got it," Vic said. "See you soon."

When he returned half an hour later, besides changes of clothes and toiletries for both of them he also had his old camping bedroll—slightly musty from its long time in storage—and his toolbox.

"What's that for?" Li Ann asked, giving the latter item a puzzled look. Then she watched as Vic climbed up on Mac's couch and started unscrewing Mac's light fixture. "Seriously, what are you up to?"

"Got it," Vic said with satisfaction, tugging loose the little hidden camera he'd spotted as soon as he came in. "One down."

Li Ann rolled her eyes, but made no further comments as Vic proceeded to comb Mac's apartment for additional bugs. He found three, over the course of about an hour.

"Okay," he said finally. "I think that's all of them."

"I doubt it," Li Ann said. "The Director's always got something in reserve."

"Maybe," Vic said. "At least I'm not just rolling over and _letting_ her spy on me."

Li Ann shrugged. "I guess it just doesn't bother me as much as it does you."

Vic snapped his toolbox shut and joined Li Ann on the couch. "How are you doing?"

She tried for a smile, but it didn't stick. "Tired," she said. "Relieved. Wrung out."

"Yeah," he said, taking her hand. "Me too."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'd like to go to sleep now," she said.

"There's a few things we should probably talk about," Vic pointed out.

"A few," she agreed, wryly. "But let's deal with that in the morning."


	11. Vic didn't read Mac's diary

Li Ann slept on the couch, and Vic slept on the floor nearby, in his bedroll.

They both woke up to the sound of yelling at four in the morning.

Li Ann was on her feet almost instantly. Vic had more of a job disentangling himself from his bedroll.

"Wait," he whisper-called to her before she could leave him behind.

"Mac's in trouble," she shot back. "Back me up."

" _Wait_ ," Vic insisted. "He has nightmares, remember? I've been through this before. Believe me, there's nobody else in there."

"He sounds frantic," Li Ann whispered, edging closer to Mac's bedroom. "I'm going in."

"Sure," Vic agreed, "I'm right there with you. Just be careful, he'll probably take a swing at you when you wake him up."

Mac's blinds weren't closed, so the night-time glow of the city gave them enough light to see him thrashing on his bed. Li Ann reached the side of the bed and hesitated, looking back at Vic.

"Uh, I usually just kind of grab his arms and tell him to shut up and go back to sleep," Vic said.

Li Ann cautiously touched Mac's shoulder. "Mac?" she said.

Mac shot bolt upright like he'd been scalded, eyes wide open. He said something that Vic couldn't catch.

"Michael's dead," Li Ann said gently.

Mac stared at her for a moment like he wasn't quite sure who she was, and then he nodded. "Right," he said—and then he winced, putting a hand to his side. "Jesus _fuck_."

"You okay there?" Vic said.

Mac looked up, startled, like he hadn't noticed Vic yet. "Oh," he said. "I forgot. Sleepover at my place." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, winced again, and stood up. "I need a drink."

"Bad idea," Vic said. "It's the middle of the night and the Director wants us at nine o'clock. And you're not in real great shape right now."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." Mac shot him a glare, and padded gingerly off towards the kitchen.

Vic gave Li Ann a 'help?' look, but she shrugged and said "One drink won't hurt."

They caught up to Mac in his kitchen. He'd opened the cupboard where he kept his booze, but he hadn't got a bottle down yet; he was hunched over the counter, grimacing in obvious pain. When he saw them, he straightened up. "Uh, somebody else wanna pick the poison?" he suggested, a little wheezily.

Vic raised an eyebrow at him. "So, about those ribs you said weren't broken."

Mac gave a pained little laugh that turned into a gasp. "I think the tranquilizer's worn off now," he said.

"Oh, jeez," Vic said. He took a step closer to Mac and put a hand on his shoulder—carefully. "Look, you should get back to bed. In the morning you've got to see a doctor."

"Fuck off," Mac said—startling Vic. "I didn't want you here. So you can either have a drink with me, or get the hell out of here, but you're not telling me how to get through this night." Then, gritting his teeth against the pain, he reached up to the cupboard and pulled out the first bottle he touched.

Li Ann stepped in and took the bottle out of Mac's hand. "Go sit," she said to both of them. "I'll get glasses."

The bottle Mac had picked more or less at random was a half-full quart of tequila. Li Ann brought three shot glasses to go with it. She filled them up and set the bottle aside. "Here," she said, handing out the glasses and taking her seat at the end of the couch, joining Vic in flanking Mac.

"Cheers," Mac said, and tossed back his shot.

Li Ann followed suit.

Vic gave his a leery sniff—he didn't like the smell of tequila, didn't like the taste, even _with_ the whole salt-and-lemon ritual which was conspicuously lacking here. But Li Ann and Mac were both watching him expectantly, so he held his breath and gulped.

"Gah!" he choked. "That stuff is _wretched_."

"Mac," Li Ann said, "We need to talk."

Mac eyed his empty shot glass. "Am I going to need more tequila for this?"

Li Ann put a hand on his. "We know that you saw us kiss, the morning before you were taken. And I think you misunderstood what that meant. It's our fault—we should have talked to you about it sooner."

Mac nodded. "I am _definitely_ going to need more tequila for this." He tried to lean forward to grab the bottle but jerked back with a hissed " _fuck_ ," clutching his free hand to his side again.

"I'm not so sure this is the right time for this conversation," Vic said. "Mac's really been through the wringer."

"We should have had this conversation a week ago," Li Ann said, rather grimly. "We're having it now before anything else happens."

"You're getting back together," Mac said. "You don't have to say it, I figured it out." He took a careful breath. "It's okay. It's really okay. I wish nothing the best for you both. I love you guys, and I want you to be happy. I really do. And just so you know, I did _not_ get kidnapped because of you. That was just my shit luck striking again."

"Mac," Li Ann said. "You're _really_ an idiot."

And she kissed him.

It was a careful kiss; she cupped his jaw with her hand to turn his head towards her, and she conspicuously avoided touching his body. Mac's eyes fluttered closed and his fingers sort of twitched on his lap.

Vic felt an instinctive urge to turn away but he fought it. He reminded himself of what he understood to be happening here: Li Ann was not affirming her choice of one of them over the other one. She was asking to have them both.

And Vic had already said yes.

He realized, with a sudden worried pang, that Mac might say no.

Li Ann, her eyes closed, was brushing her fingers up and down the side of Mac's face, as though re-learning its contours. Vic felt a lump in his throat. He was struck by their beauty—both of them. Watching them kiss was making him feel warm and glowy all over.

The tequila was probably helping with that too.

Finally Li Ann sat back. Mac's eyes opened, and he darted a confused and slightly panicky look between Li Ann and Vic. "Uh," he said, "Is Vic going to hit me now?"

Vic cleared his throat and gave Mac what was meant to be a quick reassuring grin, but it probably came out as a weird grimace because Vic was having trouble processing all of his feelings at the moment. And he was coming to terms with the fact that he'd just gotten hard, watching Li Ann and Mac kiss. "No," he managed to say. "Look, man. Li Ann and I talked about it one night in the surveillance truck, and we realized there's no god-damned reason she can't be with both of us."

Mac's eyes widened momentarily. He looked back and forth between Li Ann and Vic, again, settling this time on Li Ann. "Like with Michael?" he said.

She gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Okay then," Mac said, easing himself back against the couch. He sounded tentatively cheerful. "Awesome. As long as Vic doesn't suddenly decide to marry you and whisk you away to Singapore."

"Wait, what?" Vic said. "What do you mean, 'like with Michael'?"

"The last year in Hong Kong, I took both Michael and Mac as lovers," Li Ann explained. "Each of them knew about the other. The three of us were so close ... it seemed almost inevitable."

"We made a great team," Mac said, wistfully.

Vic realized he wasn't totally blindsided by this new information. He'd known for more than a year that both Mac and Michael had wanted to marry Li Ann; when he stopped to think about it, that did imply that she'd been intimate with both men.

"Okay," Vic said. "So this, um, _sharing_ thing isn't new ground for either of you. Got it. Only could I just register my objection to the phrase 'like with Michael'? I hate the idea that anything we might do here would remind you two of that psychopath."

"Hey," Mac chided, "That's my brother you're talking about."

Vic gave Mac a good hard look, trying to decide if he was joking. "Uh, he played all of us, including the Director, in an elaborate scheme of revenge against you that nearly got us all killed."

"It ended badly," Mac conceded. "But we had some good times in Hong Kong."

He wasn't joking. Vic couldn't believe it. "When?" he said. "Like when you were _fourteen_?"

Mac squeezed his eyes briefly shut. "Just drop it, Vic. There's no way you can ever understand how it was with Michael."

Vic looked to Li Ann for support, but she laced her fingers through Mac's and gave Vic an apologetic look. "He's right," she said. "You weren't there, you really can't understand."

"I understand that he's been dead for two months and he's still fucking Mac up," Vic retorted.

Mac shot Vic a look of annoyance. "Are you going to get on my back about the nightmares again? Look, I'm a restless sleeper, it's really not a big deal."

" _Yes_ the nightmares," Vic said. He hadn't planned to bring it up until Mac had had a little more time to recover from the kidnapping—but okay, apparently they were having this conversation now. "People don't wake up screaming in the middle of the night all the time, that's not normal. And since Michael died you've been going out and fucking strangers almost every night. Are you going to tell me that's not a big deal either?"

"I was _moving on_ ," Mac gritted out. "Or trying to. Same as Li Ann. I just didn't bother with the personals ads—the bar scene is more efficient."

"More efficient at almost getting you _killed_ ," Vic shot back.

"Uh, that was the _case_ , remember? Which I solved."

"The Director wasn't asking you to do anything you wouldn't have done anyway. _You_ said that," Vic reminded him. "I didn't believe you at the time, but it was true, wasn't it? Everything you did while you were working the case—you'd already been doing it on your own time. Even the fucking stories."

Mac blinked. "Wait, how did you know _that_?"

"The Calgary Stampede," Vic said.

"Oh, right," Li Ann mused. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Huh?" Mac said.

"One guy last week said he'd heard you were a cowboy," Vic reminded him. "But you never told that story when we were around to hear it. So you must've told it earlier, before the case started."

Mac gave Vic a funny look. "Okay, you got me," he said. "I made up some stories. So what?"

"Well, _why_ would you do that?" Vic said. "I think I know. You were using the stories to keep anybody from getting close to you."

"Duh," Mac said. "I'm a fucking secret agent. Kind of goes with the territory. The stories were a _cover_ , Vic. The more lies I told, the less chance there was that anybody would ever believe the truth."

Vic stopped and thought about that for a second. "Huh. Actually that's kind of smart," he admitted.

"There you go," Mac said, giving Vic a shadow of a grin. "It was fun, too. Gets the creative juices flowing."

Vic didn't return Mac's grin. Mac was full of smooth answers but he hadn't managed to allay Vic's overall unease about how Mac had been coping since Michael's death. Vic had learned too many worrying things about Mac in the past week and a half—and the panicky feeling from when Mac had gone missing was too fresh in his memory—for him to let this go just yet. "Okay, the stories served a purpose," Vic conceded. "Doesn't change the fact that you're running away from dealing with what happened with Michael."

"I've _dealt_ ," Mac said. "He's dead." He glanced towards Li Ann, who'd been holding his hand silently. She gave him a tiny nod.

"For real this time," she said. "I saw his corpse burning."

Vic sucked in a quick breath at that image. He noticed that Mac and Li Ann's fingers had just tightened around each other; other than that the two of them maintained their composure.

"He's very, very dead this time," Vic agreed. "And I personally would love it if we could just never talk about him again. But Mac, you _haven't_ dealt. You're dreaming about him every fucking night, aren't you? Shit, you even stopped writing in your diary when he died."

Mac's eyes kind of bugged out at that. "You _read_ my _diary_?"

Vic remembered belatedly that he hadn't actually planned to admit that. "You'd disappeared," he pointed out defensively. "We were looking for clues."

Mac covered his face with both hands. "Kill me now," he groaned.

"It's not such a big deal," Vic said.

Mac shot Vic a baleful look. "Don't let it go to your head. You're just ... always _there_ , okay? And you're hot. It doesn't mean anything."

Li Ann cleared her throat. "Uh, Mac, _Vic_ didn't read your diary. He can't read Chinese."

Mac blinked. "Oh. Right."

"Wait," Vic said. "I'm hot?"

Li Ann said something quickly in Chinese. Mac shot back a reply, and they had a quick back-and-forth exchange—argument?—that Vic couldn't make out a word of.

"Hey!" Vic said. "English, please?"

Mac glared at him. "Want me to start writing my diary in English too?"

"Well," Vic said, "If you're offering..."

Maybe nobody else was in a mood for joking. Mac and Li Ann were both glaring at him now.

But Vic was actually feeling oddly giddy.

"You have a crush on me," he said. "You wrote about it in your diary."

Mac blanched. Li Ann put a protective hand on his shoulder.

"Vic..." she said warningly.

"Since when?" Vic wondered out loud. "I mean, things started out pretty rough between us. I've said some things I regret, that's for sure."

"Could we not talk about this?" Mac said. "Let's go back to talking about Michael. That was fun."

Vic realized he was inadvertently torturing Mac. "Sorry," he said. "I mean—this is kind of a shock for me. I didn't pick up on it."

" _That's_ a surprise," Mac muttered. "You're dense like a bag of rocks."

"I didn't say it was a _bad_ shock," Vic pointed out.

Both Mac and Li Ann gave him puzzled looks.

"Mac, I've had ... thoughts ... about you too," Vic said.

"Define _thoughts_ ," Mac said, warily.

Vic cleared his throat. "You're cute."

Mac stared at Vic like he'd broken out in polka dots. "You're _straight_ ," he said finally.

"Not as straight as I thought I was two weeks ago," Vic admitted. "This case..." His thoughts flicked back to the surveillance van—the way he'd gotten hard, listening to Mac having sex.

And the barn. The preacher. Vic's defiant catalogue of all the not-so-straight moments in his life.

Well, here was another one.

He kissed Mac.

He hadn't thought it through for more than about half a second, so it was only at the moment that his lips touched Mac's that it occurred to him that, crush notwithstanding, Mac might not actually want Vic to kiss him.

That concern fled quickly, though, as Mac's lips parted to meet his.

Vic closed his eyes. His blood was singing in his ears—he felt so nervous, and flushed with heat. One shot of tequila was not enough excuse for this. He was kissing Mac and it was thrilling, like a high-speed motorcycle chase. He edged closer, curling a hand around Mac's side—

And Mac jerked away, grunting in pain.

"Shit," Vic said. "Sorry. I forgot—I'm an idiot."

"No worries," Mac gasped, leaning back against the couch. "It was worth it." He glanced towards Li Ann, and then back at Vic. "You two must have had some _very_ interesting conversations in the surveillance van."

"Not about this," Li Ann said, giving Vic a measuring look. Vic got the feeling she didn't know quite how to respond to what he'd just done.

Well, that made three of them.

"You know, maybe we should all try to get a bit more sleep before we have to face the Director," Vic suggested. "I think ... everything's going to be different now, right? And we're going to need some time to figure it out."

"You can say that again," Mac said, faintly.


	12. Dobrinsky Totally Would Have Worn the Outfit

The Director stared down the table at her four agents. She was wearing the red dress today, with the plunging neckline.

Vic reflexively squirmed.

"Well," she said. "That wasn't the _cleanest_ operation you've ever pulled off, but I suppose we'll put a notch in the 'win' column. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Mac said, tipping his sunglasses at her.

Vic refrained from pointing out that Mac's own contribution, getting kidnapped and tortured, had barely even mattered in the end—it was Jackie's breakthrough with Bradley that had indirectly led Vic and Li Ann to Bob.

"The provincial police spent last night going over Robert Campbell's house and grounds," the Director went on. "They found the bodies of the last four missing men in a snow-covered charnel pit at the back of the property."

"Jesus," Vic said under his breath. He glanced towards Mac, who had come uncomfortably close to ending up in that pit.

He was just in time to catch Mac silently stifling a sneeze, and then clutching his side and gritting his teeth. He didn't make a sound but his face had gone white as a sheet.

The Director, meanwhile, was flipping through some papers at the front of the table. "We await the report of the medical examiner before we can guess whether they died as a result of their treatment in the barn, or were killed when they didn't prove as _malleable_ as Bradley and the two other survivors. In any case, you can rest assured that the perpetrators will not see the light of day for a good long while."

This being the Agency, Vic wasn't so sure the kidnappers were going to see the inside of the official Canadian justice system, either. He found that he wasn't especially bothered by that thought. He took another look at Mac, who was unobtrusively hugging his chest and taking shallow breaths. They _really_ should've made him go to a hospital last night.

The Director was still talking. "There remains the matter of extracting the last two surviving victims from their new lives. Jackie, since you had the experience with Bradley, I'm going to lend you to the psych-ops team."

Jackie looked surprised. "We have a psych-ops team?"

"The Agency has _many_ resources you don't know about," the Director assured her.

"Do we have a day spa?" she asked. "I've been feeling pretty tense lately. I could really use a facial and a seaweed wrap."

The Director looked bemused. "Well," she said, "wrap up this case for me and I'll see what I can arrange." She slipped something—a small brass key—out of her cleavage and slid it down the table to Jackie. "If you use this in the elevator," she said, "you can access floor B-5."

"We have a floor B-5?" Li Ann said under her breath. Vic caught her eye and shrugged.

"Is that where the spa is?" Jackie asked.

"No, it's where the psych-ops team is. Go now. Shoo." The Director waved her off.

Mac straightened up. "Can I have a secret elevator key too?" he asked. And then he coughed, and clutched his side again with a whispered profanity.

"You don't need one to get where you're going," the Director said. "Report to medical. Now."

* * *

Two hours later, the Director came and found Vic and Li Ann in the Agency gym. She was still in her red dress and stiletto heels; they were both wearing standard-issue grey work-out suits, and dripping with sweat. At the exact moment she came in, Li Ann had Vic pinned on the judo mats.

"Oh, don't get up," the Director said, waving her hand. "You look like you're having too much fun."

They got up anyway. "Li Ann's been teaching me some throws," Vic said, automatically defensive. It was amazing how the Director could make any innocent thing seem dirty.

"I just came to give you an update on Mac," the Director said. "He's in rough shape, it turns out. He's got three hairline fractures in his ribs, and he seems to be coming down with a nasty cold. That's a dangerous combination because of the increased risk of pneumonia. He's going to need somebody to stay with him for the next few days."

"We'll do it," Vic said instantly.

The Director made a disappointed face. "But I had an adorable nurse's outfit all picked out for Dobrinsky. Oh, very well. Here." She tossed Vic a bottle of prescription painkillers. "Make sure he doesn't overdose on these or mix them with alcohol. I'll send him up here to meet you."

As the Director left, it occurred to Vic that the 'we' a moment ago had come to his lips automatically and he hadn't actually checked with Li Ann about it. He turned to her now, holding up the pills. "We've got this, right?"

To his surprise, she looked a bit hesitant. "Mac's not the easiest patient," she warned him. "You might end up wishing you'd let Dobrinsky handle this."

"You're kidding, right?" Vic said. "Mac and Dobrinsky _hate_ each other."

She shrugged uncomfortably and pushed a few sweaty strands of hair back from her face. "So they've got nothing to lose."

"You're serious," he realized. "Li Ann, we're all Mac's got. We _have_ to be there for him."

"Well it's all a bit awkward right now, isn't it?" she said. "After last night."

"It doesn't have to be," Vic said. "I mean—sure, we all have a lot to process. It'll take us a while to figure out exactly how it's going to work. And we should probably put it all on hold for a few days until Mac's feeling better, anyway..."

"Vic," Li Ann said in a careful, deliberate tone, "What exactly are your intentions towards Mac?"

"Uh," Vic said, " _My_ intentions? Towards Mac?"

"You kissed him last night."

"Yeah." Vic felt himself blushing—oops. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, trying to deflect the awkwardness. "Well, he sort of accidentally told me he had a crush on me. I wanted to let him know it was okay. I mean, especially after he'd just spent two days in that barn hearing about how homosexuality is the worst thing ever. I didn't want him to think that I was going to go all gay panic on his ass."

"If you want him to know you aren't disturbed by his feelings for you, then you _tell_ him that," she said. "You don't _kiss_ him."

Vic remembered then that although Li Ann had known for a long time that Mac was bi, she'd also made the point that it had always been a behind-closed-doors thing; she'd never been directly confronted with it. "Sorry," he said a bit awkwardly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

" _Me_?" Li Ann said. She made an exasperated noise. "Vic, I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about _Mac_. I'm afraid that you're going to hurt him."

"By kissing him?" Now Vic was a little confused.

Well, technically he _had_ hurt Mac when he'd kissed him, by accidentally poking him in the broken ribs, but he didn't think that was what Li Ann meant.

"By toying with his affections," Li Ann said grimly.

"Wait, who said I'm toying?" Vic crossed his arms. "I meant what I said last night, Li Ann. I really have been re-evaluating my, um, sexuality since we started this case."

"And just like that, you're suddenly queer?" She looked sceptical.

"No. Not like somebody waved a wand over me. Look, you've got to understand—where I grew up, small town Ontario, and then on the force—it's not like being gay was an option I considered."

"Well, it's not an _option_ ," she said. "It's just something you _are_. Or aren't."

Vic tried to think how to explain this better. "Well, I'm not," he said. "I'm attracted to women. I'm madly in love with you. What I'm trying to say is, since I was attracted to women all along like I was supposed to be, it was really easy to ignore my potential to be attracted to men."

She gave him a measuring look. "But you think you have that potential."

He nodded.

And realized, with a dizzy thrill, that he'd just _come out_ to Li Ann.

"So you're bi-curious?" she said.

"Um," Vic said. "Yeah. I guess that's what I'm saying."

She gave a quiet little sigh, and then unexpectedly kissed him. A soft peck on the lips, and she cupped her hands around his face. "Vic," she said against his lips. "You're sweet. And probably a little confused by the things that have happened in the past couple of weeks. If this is something about yourself that you need to explore, then go ahead. But you _can't_ experiment on Mac, okay?"

He laced his fingers together at the small of her back and leaned his forehead against hers. "Why not?" he said. "He's cute. And he has a crush on me. It could be fun."

Vic felt a little shudder go through Li Ann. "He doesn't have a crush on you," she whispered hoarsely. "He's in love with you."

"Huh?" Vic said. For a moment he wasn't sure he'd even heard her correctly. "What do you mean he's in love with me? Did he tell you that?"

She shook her head, looking rather distraught. "I read it in his diary. And last night I promised him I _wouldn't_ tell you."

"Um, wow," Vic said. His mind was reeling.

How the fuck could Mac have fallen in love with _him_?

Just at that moment, Mac walked into the gym.

Vic and Li Ann stepped quickly away from each other, guilty expressions on both their faces—which was _so_ not the front they wanted to be presenting here.

"Hi guys," Mac said, giving them an odd kind of look. "The Director just told me that both of your apartments are getting fumigated for roaches tonight. Uh, do you two want to stay over at my place again?"

* * *

After Li Ann's revelation at the gym, Vic was not especially eager to dive into a serious conversation with Mac and Li Ann about where the three of them stood now. Vic needed time to process the completely _insane_ idea that Mac had fallen in love with him.

Luckily, neither Li Ann nor Mac showed any inclination to start up a heart-to-heart, either.

In Mac's case, he was probably just too damn miserable to want to talk. His cold symptoms got steadily worse over the course of the day. Vic knew first-hand the pain of broken ribs—it was an occupational hazard—so whenever Mac coughed or sneezed, Vic winced inwardly along with him. Mac spent the afternoon curled up on the couch, watching daytime talk shows and alternating between clutching an ice pack and a pillow to his chest.

Vic went out to do a grocery run, since the closest thing Mac had to _ingredients_ in his kitchen was a half-empty bottle of soy sauce in the fridge. 

"Want me to pick up anything special?" he offered on his way out. "Some kind of comfort food, maybe?" For lunch they'd picked up a pizza on the way to Mac's place, and Mac had only eaten about half a slice. Vic figured maybe he could make something more to Mac's taste—as long as it didn't have to have tentacles or eyeballs.

Mac, however, looked at him blankly. "Comfort food?" he repeated, as though unfamiliar with the phrase.

Li Ann, who was somehow managing to sit in the red spherical chair and read a book, also gave him a puzzled look.

"You know, food from your childhood. Like if there was a special soup the Godfather would make for you when you were sick..." Vic trailed off. "Yeah, never mind. Stupid question."

He thought about it some more at the grocery store. Neither Li Ann nor Mac had ever told him very much about what it had been like, growing up in the heart of a criminal gang. But, well, Vic had met Michael, so that gave him some perspective. It was hard to imagine that, say, softness or compassion had been particularly abundant during Mac's and Li Ann's formative years.

When Vic first met Li Ann, she hadn't wanted to talk about her past at _all_. He'd learned from the Director that she'd been with the Tangs for ten years; he'd done the math and figured out that made her twelve when she'd been adopted into that family. When he'd asked her for details, she'd clammed up.

She'd mentioned once in passing that she'd had a lover, and that he'd died while they were fleeing the Tangs. But that was all she'd ever said about Mac. So it had been a hell of a shock for Vic when Mac had shown up alive—abrasive and annoying and so much more intimately connected with Li Ann than Vic had ever managed to be in the six months of their whirlwind affair and engagement.

It must have been a shock to Mac, too. Back at the beginning Vic had deliberately avoided thinking about how things looked from Mac's perspective. Now, though, he considered it. Mac had spent eighteen months in jail—in solitary confinement. It was hard to imagine Mac surviving that kind of solitude. In fact he nearly hadn't, if the story he'd told Harry was true. So at the end of that, he got sprung by the Director and brought to the Agency—where he found Li Ann. He must have been over the moon ecstatic when he saw her. And then to find out that she'd put him behind her and was engaged to another man—that must have been tough to deal with. Really it was surprising Mac hadn't been _more_ of an ass to Vic back then. He'd shown a lot of restraint in limiting himself to snarky remarks—okay, and cold-cocking him that one time, but admittedly that _had_ preserved Vic's cover with Michael.

But when the hell had Mac fallen in love with _Vic_? Vic just couldn't figure it. It wasn't like he'd ever gone out of his way to be _nice_ to the guy—more like the opposite, a lot of the time.

Of course, that wasn't necessarily a turn-off for Mac, considering he'd apparently been involved with Michael for years.

Oh shit. Bad thought, _bad thought_. Vic stopped cold in the grocery store, so abruptly that a little old lady banged into his ass with her cart.

"Sorry, dear!" she called out to him, backing up and going around.

Vic put a hand on a pyramid of canned tomatoes to steady himself and tried to un-think the thing he'd just thought. It didn't work.

Well, now he was never going to be able to enjoy making petty little jibes at Mac ever again. Shit.

Vic put a can of tomatoes in his cart, resolved to try being nicer to Mac, and went looking for an easy Chinese cookbook.

* * *

When he returned to Mac's apartment, Mac was curled up on the couch surrounded by crumpled tissues, and Li Ann was gone.

"Where'd she go?" Vic asked, as he unpacked the groceries. There was no point asking Mac where the groceries were supposed to go; food ingredients were not a thing Mac customarily kept in his kitchen.

"Dunno," Mac said. "We had a fight."

Vic looked over at him. "Huh? About what?"

"Not sure."

"You're not sure what you had a fight about?"

Rather than answering, Mac sneezed. Then he clutched the pillow to his chest and groaned. "Gimme the fucking painkillers. You took them with you when you left."

"Uh, yeah." Vic patted his pocket. He'd brought them with him deliberately; he knew both Mac and the Director too well to assume the Director had been speaking ironically when she'd asked him to prevent Mac from overdosing. "It's another hour before you're allowed to take any more."

"Fucking sadist," Mac muttered, curling around his pillow and closing his eyes.

"I got some videos," Vic said, coming around into the living room. "Hong Kong action flicks. I thought they'd be up your alley. Want me to put one on?" The TV was showing Oprah at the moment, but it didn't look like Mac was paying it much attention, so Vic went ahead and stuck one of the videos in the VCR.

"Stop it," Mac said.

"Stop what?" Vic said.

"Being nice to me," Mac answered without opening his eyes. "It's creepy and it's making me nervous."

Vic was a bit perturbed that Mac had noticed his attitude change so quickly. "So you, uh, _don't_ want to watch _Enter the Dragon_?"

Mac opened his eyes now to glare blearily at Vic. "Look, I know the Director's making you stay here."

"What? No she isn't."

Mac rolled his eyes. "I was at your place three days ago. There weren't any roaches."

Vic sighed. "Okay, I don't know what she's playing at with the fumigation story. But she didn't order us to look after you. I'm here because—" Vic stopped. He had a feeling it was really important to get this right. "Because I _care_ about you, doofus. You're hurt, and you're sick, and you need somebody to help you out until you're back on your feet. What was I gonna do, leave you in Dobrinsky's tender care?"

Mac lifted his head enough to give Vic a horrified look. " _Dobrinsky_ was the back-up plan?"

Vic nodded. "Dobrinsky in a sexy nurse costume, apparently."

Mac let out a laugh—and then immediately curled in on himself, moaning. "Fuck," he said, "do _not_ make me laugh."

"Sorry," Vic said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Want to watch the movie now?"

"In a minute. Come here." Mac laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position, and patted the couch beside himself.

Not sure where Mac was going with this, Vic cautiously sat down next to him. "What's up?" he asked.

"You and Li Ann," Mac said. "Were you serious last night?"

"About how there's no real reason she can't be with both of us? Yeah," Vic said, "totally serious."

Mac shook his head. "I just can't see you agreeing to something like that. You're too conservative."

"I'll have you know I voted NDP in the last election," Vic said.

Mac looked at him blankly.

"Uh, they're the left-wing party. So I'm not conservative. Okay, Canadian political humour is not really your thing, huh?"

Mac shook his head. Metaphorical crickets chirped.

"Never mind. The point is, I'm full of surprises."

"Yeah," Mac said, "I'll say." He slung an arm over Vic's shoulder. "I'd propose a toast, except for how I'm not allowed to drink right now. To a new era of trust, sharing and openness!"

"Uh, sure," Vic said. He suspected Mac was being flippant because he was nervous about their new arrangement. Well, that was understandable. Vic was a bit nervous too.

Actually just at the moment, he was a little nervous that Mac was going to lean in and kiss him—and Vic was _really_ not sure what he'd do in that case.

Instead, though, Mac disentangled himself from Vic and gingerly stood up. "Gotta take a leak," he said. "How 'bout you queue up the movie?"

With Mac temporarily out of the room, Vic allowed himself a quiet groan.

He'd gotten hard when Mac put his arm around him. And when he'd thought Mac might kiss him. _Fuck_.

Vic found the remote and absently started fast-forwarding his way through the previews and the Interpol warning. Li Ann had told him, in so many words, not to mess with Mac's head. She had been, Vic reflected, rather fiercely protective. And he guessed she had a point.

But who was going to protect Vic from what Mac was doing to _him_?

He got to the start of the actual movie, and stopped the tape. Sitting back, he adjusted his keys in his pocket, and ...

Fuck.

The pill bottle was gone.

Vic leapt to his feet and headed for the bathroom. The door was closed and locked.

"Mac!" Vic yelled, pounding on the door. "You're not allowed any more painkillers for another _hour_!"

The door opened suddenly, and Mac caught Vic's fist in his cupped hand. "Relax, Vic," Mac said, and tossed him the bottle. "They build in a safety margin. And seriously, the last dose wore off like an hour ago."

"You fucking _picked_ my _pocket_ ," Vic groused, pocketing the pills again and following Mac back to the living room. "I thought you were _hugging_ me."

Mac gave him an unrepentant smirk. "You, Vic, are what my dad would call an easy mark."

They settled back on the couch, finally ready to actually watch the movie. Vic made sure to keep his distance from Mac, and he kept his arms crossed protectively across his chest.

He was pissed off.

He _hated_ it when Mac played him. It made him feel slow and dumb. It made him reconsider his extremely recent decision to be nicer to Mac.

And on the other hand, Vic was not happy that Mac had just circumvented his control over the meds. Okay, taking them one hour early probably wasn't going to kill him. But it set a bad precedent.

* * *

About twenty minutes into the movie, Mac started giggling.

The movie was really not that funny.

Vic cast a bemused look in Mac's direction. Mac was slouched down at the opposite end of the couch. He'd let go of the pillow he'd previously been clutching to his chest. He looked a _lot_ more relaxed now.

Vic suddenly had a worrying thought.

"Mac," he said, pausing the movie, "How many pills did you take?"

"The right number," Mac said. "Come on, why'd you stop it? This is the good part."

Vic held the remote out of Mac's reach. "Was it more than two?"

Mac carefully held up one finger. He gazed at his hand thoughtfully for a moment, and raised a second finger. Then he curled the first finger down again, and let Vic get a good look at his raised middle finger. "Okay?" he said.

" _No_ , it's not. Fuck, Mac, this isn't a joke. Are you overdosing?" Vic sat up straight and pulled the bottle back out of his pocket. He shook it, peering at the contents. It still looked pretty full.

Mac scowled. "What, are you gonna count them?"

"Should I?" Not like it would help, since he didn't know how many there had been to begin with. "Jesus Christ. Li Ann said you were a terrible patient, but I thought she meant you were, like, _grumpy_ when you were sick."

"I _was_ grumpy," Mac said. "Because you were withholding the painkillers. Now it's fine. Let's watch the movie." He edged over towards Vic's end of the couch and made a grab for the remote. His reflexes were way off, though, and when Vic snatched the remote again Mac ended up collapsed against Vic. "Come _on_ man," he coaxed. "Hit play."

"How. Many. Did. You. Take?" Vic gritted out.

"You are really a very annoying person," Mac said, letting his head loll against Vic's shoulder.

"Tell me how many you took," Vic said, "or else first I'm going to call an ambulance and then I'm going to call the Director."

That seemed to sober Mac up. "Four," he spat out. "I took four. Fuck, Vic, you have boundary issues." He shifted away from Vic, wrapping his arms around his head. "I won't need as many tomorrow, okay? It just really fucking hurts right now."

Four. Assuming Mac was telling the truth. The maximum dose was supposed to be two pills every six hours, and Mac had just taken four pills, five hours after the last pair.

Vic wasn't a doctor. Fuck. He really wasn't sure how bad that was.

Probably not rush-to-the-E.R. level bad, anyway. He hoped.

"If you do that again," Vic said, "I'm out of here. I'll call the Director and she'll send in Dobrinsky."

"Okay, okay," Mac said. " _Now_ can we watch the movie?"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Mac started to doze off.

Vic poked him. He couldn't poke him in the ribs, so he poked him in the face instead.

"Hey," Mac said, sleepily, batting at Vic's hand. "Stop that."

"Stop falling asleep," Vic said.

"I'm _tired_." Mac tucked his legs up and lay down, closing his eyes.

"Well you have to wake up," Vic said, patting Mac's cheek repeatedly. Mac's head was pressed right against Vic's leg. "Come on. Wakey-wakey."

"Fuck _off_ ," Mac said, without opening his eyes.

"If you wanted me to let you sleep during the movie, you shouldn't have overdosed on painkillers. Seriously, Mac, wake up."

Mac pushed Vic's hands away. "It's okay," he mumbled. "You're here. You won't let me choke to death on my own vomit."

Vic blinked, brought up short by Mac's bluntness. "Okay. Well, I see you've thought this one through," he managed.

Mac didn't reply; he seemed to already be asleep.

Vic checked Mac's breathing.

Yup, still breathing.

It was going to be a long night.

Resigned, Vic leaned back, rested one hand on Mac's shoulder, and tried to pay attention to the movie.

* * *

Li Ann walked in about twenty minutes later. The movie was still playing, and Mac was lying sprawled along the full length of the couch, with his head on Vic's lap.

Li Ann took in the scene, her eyebrows crinkling with concern. But before she could say anything, Vic jumped in.

"Where _were_ you?" he asked.

"I tried to go home," she said. "But my apartment's being fumigated."

"Huh?" Vic said, momentarily diverted from his issues with Mac. "For real?"

"Well, it was blocked off with plastic sheeting and yellow tape, and when I tried to get in anyway I was chased off by a worker in a hazmat suit," Li Ann said. "And there was a funny smell."

Vic felt a flash of alarm on behalf of his own apartment. "Would she actually poison our living spaces just to make sure we stay with Mac tonight?"

"Is that what she's doing?" Li Ann looked thoughtful. "She usually has one overt reason and two or three covert ones behind anything she does."

Trying to untangle the Director's machinations was a losing battle; Vic gave up and returned to his original question. "Mac said you had a fight."

"I guess you could say that." Li Ann started stripping off her winter clothes. "You know, I love him, but he really knows how to push my buttons."

"Uh, yeah. Likewise."

Li Ann stopped unlacing her boot to give Vic a strange look. "You love him?"

Vic felt a jolt of adrenaline at the innocent misunderstanding. "He knows how to push my buttons," he clarified quickly.

"Right," Li Ann said. "Vic, he's asleep on your lap."

"More like passed out," Vic said, grimacing. "You missed the drama. He lifted the painkillers off of me and took double the recommended dose before I realized what he'd done. Here." With a little squirming, he managed to extract the pills from his pocket without dislodging Mac's head from his lap. He tossed the bottle to Li Ann. " _You_ hold them. He probably won't steal them from you."

"He can go ahead and try," she said with a bit of a snort. "I know all his tricks."

"Actually," Vic said with a sudden thought, "before you take all your things off, how about you clear out Mac's liquor stock and stash it in the trunk of your car?"

Li Ann frowned. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Li Ann didn't look entirely convinced, but she followed Vic's suggestion anyway. When she got back, Vic asked her to take over sitting with Mac so he could start making stir fry for dinner.

"I don't think we have to _literally_ watch him every minute," Li Ann said, giving Vic a hand up off the couch. "Let him sleep. I'll help you chop vegetables."

Vic gave Mac an uneasy look. It was true that he seemed all right—but Vic still wasn't sure how serious the overdose was, and Mac's casual reference to the possibility of choking to death had not been reassuring. "I'd be more comfortable if you stayed out here," he said. "You can start the movie again from the beginning. Not like Mac will notice."


	13. Chopsticks for Beginners

Mac was still asleep—passed out—when dinner was ready. They tried to wake him up, but he mumbled obscenities and batted their hands away listlessly without opening his eyes.

"Oh, let him sleep," Li Ann said. "He probably needs it."

"He needs food, too," Vic insisted. "He's barely eaten all day."

Li Ann raised an eyebrow. "Victor Mansfield," she said. "You are a _worrywart_."

Vic bristled at her slightly mocking tone. "I'm serious," he said. "He had, what, three bites of pizza?"

Li Ann shrugged it off. "He'll eat when he wakes up. We'll save a plate for him."

Vic had to concede the point—Mac was clearly not about to rouse himself for dinner. "Okay," he said. "But let's eat out here where we can keep an eye on him."

Li Ann stared at him in apparent disbelief. "Are you for real, Vic? What turned you into such a mother hen?"

"Oh, I don't know," Vic snapped. "Maybe the fact that Mac was kidnapped and tortured for two days in a freezing barn, he has three broken ribs and a respiratory infection, and he decided to top it all off with a codeine overdose?"

"Three hairline fractures," Li Ann countered, "And a head cold. Obviously he's miserable, but don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

"Don't you think you're _under_ reacting?" Vic shot back. "You're the one who's supposed to be in love with him."

The second the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Too late, though—Li Ann was already drawing in on herself in that tight, wounded way that she had.

"If I fell apart every time Mac got himself in trouble," she said coldly, "I wouldn't be much use to the Agency, would I?" She turned and walked away, towards the door.

"Wait!" Vic said, quickly following her. "Li Ann, where are you going? Remember you can't go home." Fleetingly, he wondered if the Director had seen something like this coming—was that why she had sent actual fumigators?

"I'll check into a hotel," Li Ann said, jerking on her boots.

"I need your help here," Vic said. "You were right, he's a _terrible_ patient."

She pulled on her coat with an angry shrug. "You'll handle it. Clearly, you're the one who cares enough about him."

Vic realized the situation was spinning rapidly out of control, but he put himself between Li Ann and the door in the hopes of salvaging it. He was only barely starting to grasp what was really going on here—but he was just about ready to make a guess about what Mac and Li Ann's fight earlier had been about. "I didn't say you didn't care," he said. "I think you care very deeply. I think that's why you're mad at him for getting hurt."

She stopped zipping her coat, and looked at Vic silently for a moment. "Okay," she admitted finally, "You might have a point."

Vic stepped in and, nudging her hands out of the way, unzipped her coat for her. She let him do it.

"Now," he said, "You'll stay, we'll eat dinner, and we'll make sure Mac makes it through the night okay in spite of himself." He lifted the coat away from her shoulders and, at the same time, brushed her lips with a quick kiss. "I know you must be hungry—you've been smelling my awesome cooking for the past twenty minutes."

She gave him a wry smile. "I'm sorry I called you a worrywart and a mother hen," she said. "You're _nurturing_. It's a good quality. I just don't have a lot of experience with it. I have trouble knowing how to react."

"You and Mac both," Vic said. "Earlier he told me it was creepy."

"Well," Li Ann said with a shrug, "We _were_ both raised by a crime lord."

Her tone was light, but the words hit Vic hard. He'd been wondering about the same thing earlier, after all—when they'd both reacted blankly to his question about comfort food.

Following Li Ann back to the kitchen, Vic thought about it some more. He knew that life with the Tangs had been luxurious in many ways; Li Ann and Mac had grown up steeped in wealth and power. Vic tended to get defensive when their background was contrasted with his own—usually via Li Ann (accidentally) or Mac (on purpose) making some reference that Vic wasn't worldly enough to get.

But he hadn't done a lot of thinking about the ways in which their upbringing must have been deprived.

He knew that they both had loved the Godfather—he'd seen their grief after Mr. Tang died. But he couldn't exactly forget that when the two of them had decided to run away together, the man had literally _put out a hit_ on them. So Vic was dubious of the quality of the love Mr. Tang had had for them.

Ownership was not the same as love.

* * *

He tried asking Li Ann about it over dinner.

They were both sitting on the living room floor, with their plates set up on the coffee table. Mac was still passed out on the couch, though he seemed to be sleeping more lightly now; he'd rolled over onto his side, and every once in a while he mumbled something incoherent.

"You've never told me very much about what it was like, growing up in the Tang family," was Vic's delicate opening salvo.

"Nope," Li Ann said. She picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks, popped it in her mouth, and chewed.

"Right," Vic said after a long pause. "So, I was thinking—maybe we could talk about that, a little?"

Li Ann gave him a strange look. "Why?"

"Well..." Vic put down his fork and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a thing people do, right? When they're dating? They talk about their past. So they can get to know each other better."

"We dated before," Li Ann reminded him. "We even got engaged. You didn't need me to talk about the Tangs."

"And then you broke up with me," Vic said, picking up his fork again and stabbing at a piece of broccoli. "Maybe we should do things differently this time."

"I broke up with you because a part of my past caught up with me," Li Ann pointed out, eyes flicking towards Mac. "And we _are_ doing things differently this time."

"Well, there's that," Vic admitted. " _Different_ is one way to put it. I've never done anything like this before." A thought occurred to him—a question about her past that he _really_ wanted answered. "How did it work with you and Mac and Michael?"

A quick hitch in her breath betrayed her discomfort at the question, but she kept her expression neutral. "I don't quite know how to answer that," she said, plucking a mushroom from her plate. "The three of us had ten years together. I can't sum it up in a few words."

"Okay, fair," Vic said. "But I really meant just the last year—when you were dating both of them. You said they both knew, and everybody was fine with it. It's hard for me to imagine how that worked."

Li Ann chewed thoughtfully for a moment. Vic waited. Finally, she said, "I wasn't _dating_ both of them. I was having sex with both of them. There's a difference."

Vic frowned. It wasn't like Li Ann to be crude. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Well, 'dating' would have been beside the point. The three of us spent most of our days together as it was, training and doing jobs for the family. And we spent a lot of our down time together, too."

"Sounds familiar," Vic murmured, with a glance towards Mac.

Li Ann accepted that point with a shrug. "I said before, there was a feeling of inevitability when I became intimate with each of them."

Vic suddenly felt a little uncomfortable at the implications for their own situation. "So, what, you became lovers with them just because they were there?"

She shook her head quickly. "God no. I was in love with Mac. And as for Michael ... I wouldn't call it _love_. But there was an intensity to that relationship. It's very hard to explain."

"Oh, I get that Michael was intense," Vic said. "But that's part of what makes it hard for me to imagine him being content to—well, pardon the expression, but to share you with Mac."

She looked thoughtful. "That wasn't really the dynamic," she said. "When I think about it now—they weren't sharing _me_. It was more like ... Michael possessed both of _us_." Another sideways glance at Mac. "And as long as Michael understood us both to be his, he didn't object to what the two of us did with each other."

"Until you decided to run away together," Vic said.

She shook her head. "Michael decided he wanted to marry me and take me away to Singapore, leaving Mac behind in Hong Kong. He arranged it all with Father without consulting either one of us."

"And _that's_ when you decided to run," Vic concluded.

"Actually, no." Li Ann looked down at her plate. "Some other things happened that opened our eyes to the realities of our situation. _Then_ we decided to run."

"What happened?" Vic asked. "What things?"

Li Ann shook her head again. "What's past is past. The family is destroyed, Father and Michael are both dead—there's no point in re-opening old wounds."

Vic was about to say something along the lines of how Michael seemed to be a more like a wound that was still open and possibly bleeding—but just at that moment Mac shouted something and flailed wildly in his sleep, knocking himself off the couch.

"Shit," Vic said, getting there just a little too late to catch him. "Mac, are you okay?"

Mac shook his head—more like to clear it than in answer to Vic's question. "Fuck," he said, and then something in Chinese. He started to push himself off the floor, but then he started coughing and fell back down again.

Li Ann was beside him now too, having come around from the far side of the coffee table. "Mac," she said, "It was just a dream."

He nodded, but he was still coughing.

"Hang on," Vic said. "I'll get you some water."

When he got back with the glass, Mac had somehow gotten back up on the couch. He was leaning against Li Ann—who had an arm around his shoulders and a hand laid against his cheek. She looked worried.

"I think he has a fever," she said to Vic.

"I'm _fine_ ," Mac said, and reached out a hand for the glass. "Fucking thirsty, though. Thanks."

"I'm a little more worried about the fact that you have broken ribs and you just fell off the fucking couch," Vic said. "Did you mess yourself up any worse?"

Mac finished draining the glass, and handed it back to Vic. "Don't think so," he said. "Nothing hurts."

"Yeah, well, you took 120 mg of codeine an hour ago, so _that's_ not surprising," Vic said. He gave his partner a good look up and down. Mac was still wearing his suit from the morning, jacket and all. At this point in the day it looked about as rumpled as he did. His face was pasty behind his five o'clock shadow, and his eyes and nose were both pink-tinged. He was leaning against Li Ann like he'd fall over if she moved out of the way. But if he'd re-injured his ribs, he wasn't showing it.

"We were having dinner," Vic said. "I'll get you some."

Ignoring Mac's protest that he wasn't hungry, Vic went to the kitchen and filled a plate for him. 

Mac and Li Ann had both moved back down to the floor when Vic got back; they were sitting around the coffee table. It seemed a little weird, when there was a perfectly good dining room table just a few feet away, but Vic rolled with it. He put the fresh plate in front of Mac and sat down on the floor himself, ready to re-start his interrupted meal.

"Vic," Mac said in a disappointed tone, "You can't eat stir fry with a fork."

"Sure I can," Vic said, demonstrating by spearing a piece of chicken.

Mac shook his head. "It's not done."

Vic swallowed his chicken. "Well, I gave _you_ chopsticks, didn't I?"

"Li Ann," Mac said, "Would you please get another pair of chopsticks from the kitchen?"

She rolled her eyes. "So you can torture Vic? Get them yourself."

In response, Mac rose to his feet—unsteadily—and tottered off to the kitchen.

Vic caught Li Ann's eye, wincing, as Mac stumbled against the door frame and then disappeared from sight.

"Should I be humouring him?" he asked in an undertone. "I'm really not sure what my best option is here."

"Well, he's sick," Li Ann said.

"Also high," Vic reminded her.

"Hey!" Mac called out from the kitchen. "Who stole all my liquor?"

" _Told_ you it was a good idea to move it to your car," Vic whispered.

Li Ann conceded that one with a wry look and a little nod.

"Got them," Mac said, returning and more or less collapsing back to the floor beside Vic, chopsticks upraised.

"Uh," Vic said, taking them, "What am I even supposed to do with these?"

In response, Li Ann held up her own pair, poised with a piece of broccoli grasped between them. "Hold them like this," she said.

Vic tried to copy her grip, but it felt like he was holding two pencils, which made no sense because who would ever hold more than one pencil at a time?

"Like this," Mac said. He used his own pair to pick up a piece of chicken, and then he put it back on his plate. He held up the chopsticks again and snapped them open and shut a few times. It looked easy when he did it.

Vic tried again—he tried to pick up a piece of broccoli.

His chopsticks snapped right past each other, and the broccoli flew across the table and hit Li Ann in the chest.

Mac snickered.

Li Ann raised an eyebrow and took a kleenex from Mac's box to dab at her shirt.

"This is stupid," Vic said. "I'm too old to learn how to do this." He put down the chopsticks and reached for his fork.

Mac smacked his hand down on top of Vic's. "No you aren't," he said. "Don't limit yourself, Vic." He curled his hand around Vic's, and then tucked the chopsticks between Vic's fingers. "Here," he said. "Like this."

With Mac's fingers guiding his, Vic found that he actually _could_ manage the chopsticks a bit better. He managed to trap a piece of chicken and guide it all the way up to his mouth.

Of course then he could barely chew and swallow it, since his heart was beating so hard. The feel of Mac's hand gently gripping his was electrifying.

"Good," Mac said, sounding pleased with himself. "One more time."

They did it once more—a piece of broccoli this time. Li Ann watched with a bemused expression.

"Great," Mac said, letting go of Vic's hand. "You'll be ready to go out in public in Hong Kong in no time."

"Well, uh, that wasn't actually on my agenda..." Vic said. He put down the chopsticks and reached for his fork.

"Hey!" Mac said. He snatched the fork away from Vic and tossed it over his shoulder. Vic heard it hit the floor somewhere behind the couch. "Vic, a little _commitment_ , it's all I ask."

Vic scowled. He was starting to think he'd humoured Mac enough. "All I ask is to finish my supper," he muttered. "I'm still hungry."

"Okay, okay, I hear you," Mac said. He picked up his own chopsticks, plucked a mushroom from Vic's plate, and brought it up towards Vic's face.

"Hey," Vic said, instinctively ducking back. "What the hell, Mac?"

"If you're not capable of feeding yourself, I'll help you out," Mac said. He jiggled the mushroom suggestively. "Come on, open up."

Vic appealed to Li Ann with his eyes, but she just shrugged and took a bite of chicken.

"Mac, you have a disgusting cold," Vic pointed out. "I'm not sharing chopsticks with you."

"It's okay, I haven't eaten anything with them yet," Mac said.

And that, Vic realized, was true. With all the business about teasing Vic about the chopsticks, Mac had managed to completely avoid eating anything himself. 

"Okay," Vic said.

"Okay?" Mac echoed, like he wasn't sure what Vic had just agreed to.

"Feed me," Vic said.

Mac grinned. It was like the sun coming out, it really was. Vic couldn't help feeling a bit warm inside as he opened his mouth like a baby bird and let Mac feed him the mushroom.

"Okay," Vic said. "My turn."

"Your turn?" Mac said, clearly not yet getting it.

In response, Vic picked up his chopsticks. He carefully fitted them between his fingers, the way Mac had showed him.

And then, cheating just a little with his other hand, Vic picked up a piece of chicken from Mac's plate and offered it to Mac.

Mac's eyes widened, but he opened his mouth and accepted the offering.

"There," Vic said with some satisfaction. "See? Tasty, tasty chicken."

In reply, Mac plucked another mushroom from Vic's plate and fed it to Vic.

Then Vic tried to get a mushroom for Mac. Unfortunately the damn thing was all round and slippery, and it kept sliding out from between his chopsticks.

"Here," Li Ann said. She reached across the table with her own chopsticks and grabbed the mushroom. "Mushrooms are tricky," she said to Vic—and offered it to Mac.

It was Mac's turn to look bemused. He opened his mouth, and Li Ann popped the mushroom in.

So, they all fed each other dinner.

It got pretty ridiculous. Vic managed to drop food on both of his partners, the floor, and the couch behind him—but not a single piece on himself. They all ended up in fits of giggles.

It was the most fun Vic had had in weeks.

And he couldn't help but notice that Mac found a _lot_ of excuses to touch him. His hand on Vic's shoulder for balance. Their knees pressing together under the table. Mac adjusting Vic's grip on the chopsticks, more than once.

And Vic enjoyed it.

Li Ann, on the other side of the table, didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Or at least, whatever she noticed, she apparently didn't think it fell in the category of Vic messing with Mac's head, because she didn't send any dirty looks Vic's way.

After supper, they all settled on the couch to watch the movie from the beginning. This time Mac curled up at one end of the couch, and when Vic sat down at the other end, Li Ann joined him and snuggled into the crook of his arm.

Vic wondered if it was okay, cuddling Li Ann right in front of Mac. They both seemed fine with it, though—they were focused on the movie. Vic considered the possibility that he was overthinking this.

Then he noticed that Li Ann had a hand on Mac's foot, and she was absently rubbing his toes.

While cuddling Vic.

Okay, it was a long way from kinky three-way sex, but it still made Vic's heart skip a beat.

This was really, _really_ different from anything he had ever done before.


	14. Two Broken Children

Mac managed to stay awake through the whole movie this time, but by the end of it he was clearly fading.

Vic brought up the question of sleeping arrangements.

"Not to be a worrywart or a mother hen," he said, with a sidelong glance at Li Ann, "but Mac, you have a tendency to fall off of things that you're sleeping on. And, well, anybody who's excited at the prospect of rushing Mac to the E.R. in the middle of the night because he's re-broken his ribs falling out of bed, raise your hand." He looked at both of them. "Didn't think so."

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," Mac said.

"No problem," Vic said. "I was thinking the three of us could share your bed. As long as you're in the middle, you'll be fine."

It wasn't really an out-there suggestion. Mac and Vic had shared a bed several nights in a row the previous week, and all three of them had slept on Vic's bed one night—though Mac might not remember that very well, considering how drunk he'd been at the time.

"Sounds good to me," Li Ann said—which was a relief, since Vic hadn't thought to consult her first.

Mac, on the other hand, looked a little reluctant. "Well, I guess if you're that desperate to get off the living room floor..."

"My bedroll doesn't even have _padding_ ," Vic groused, offering Mac the dignity of a straw to grasp at.

"Yeah, I hear comfort gets more important to you as you age," Mac said. "Okay, you can sleep with me tonight."

* * *

Mac's nightmares woke them all up around four in the morning.

This time it was the kicking that roused Vic—Mac wasn't shouting, for once.

"Hey," Vic said, carefully grasping Mac's shoulder. "Wake up."

Mac flailed blindly at Vic's hand, eyes still closed. "Let _go_ Michael, you're hurting me," he mumbled.

Vic pulled his hand away fast. "I'm not Michael," he said. "Mac, wake up."

Li Ann had pulled herself groggily up on one elbow on Mac's other side. "What's going on?"

"Nightmare, I think," Vic said. And then, "Ow!" as Mac's knee connected with Vic's shin.

At that, Mac's eyes popped open. "Vic?" he croaked, and then started coughing.

"Mac, are you okay?" Li Ann said.

Pressing a hand against his mouth, Mac managed to stop coughing. He shook his head. "Fuck," he managed. "Need more painkillers."

Vic glanced towards Mac's clock. "Uh, no," he said. "Not yet."

"What are you talking about?" Mac said, clutching his side and wincing. "It's been way more than six hours."

"You took a double dose," Vic reminded him. "And you took it early. You can't have any more till six a.m."

"Are you for real?" Mac groaned. "Li Ann, talk some sense into him."

"I hid the pills," Li Ann said mildly. "You're not going to find them."

"Fuck," Mac said, sounding resigned. He poked Vic. "Out of the way, I want to get up."

"Huh?" Vic said. "It's still the middle of the night."

"I'm not going to get back to sleep before you give me the pills," Mac said. "Hurts too much. I'll go watch TV."

"Okay," Vic said, stifling a yawn. "I'll get up with you."

"Me too," said Li Ann, who already looked wide awake.

Mac gave the two of them a dubious look. "You don't have to. Not like you'll miss anything exciting on the Home Shopping Channel."

"I'm awake now anyway," Vic said, trying to open his eyes wide enough to make it look true.

"I promise not to take the pills early," Mac said, looking annoyed.

"That's not why I'm getting up," Vic said, even though it partly was. "Just thought you might appreciate some company."

"Anyway, you're _not_ going to find them," Li Ann said again.

"Did you hide them in the toaster?" Mac asked.

"What?" Li Ann said. "No."

"I think sticking a pill bottle in a toaster would cause a fire," Vic added.

"Guys, go back to sleep," Mac said. "I'd rather be alone right now."

Vic wondered if he should acquiesce. He could easily imagine how Mac might want some space to himself, after being forced to share his apartment all day and finally his bed.

But, on the other hand—something about the edgy way Mac kept looking at him and then looking away, something about the tight way Mac was holding himself, made Vic think Mac wasn't being completely honest about his feelings right now.

And he'd had another nightmare.

"No, I'm up," Vic said. "We're all up. I have an idea. Let's talk about Michael."

Mac gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you kidding? You guys hid all my booze."

"So it's the perfect time." Vic looked from Mac to Li Ann—they were both clearly distressed by his suggestion. But that just increased Vic's conviction that this was something they needed to deal with. "I'm serious, Mac. You were dreaming about him again, weren't you?"

Mac gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, and I'd rather _not_ dwell on it, thanks."

"Okay, sure, but that's not working, is it?" Vic said. "I think it's time you tried an alternative to bottling it all up."

Mac looked to Li Ann. "This isn't a good idea. _You_ make him understand."

But she shook her head. "No, Mac, I think he's right. It's time we talked about Michael." She stood up. "Let's go to the living room. I'll make tea."

* * *

"So," Li Ann said, huddled over her tea. "Where to start?"

All three of them were on the couch—Mac in the middle, this time.

Mac and Li Ann were both wearing black satin pyjamas that made them look like ninjas. Vic thought it was pretty cute that they matched.

Of course Vic was the odd one out in his comfy blue plaid flannel, but he figured he was past feeling threatened about that.

"How about starting at the end," Vic suggested. "Mac, did you ever tell Li Ann what Michael said before he left you to die?"

Mac shook his head. "Never really came up," he said. He looked at Li Ann. "Sure you want to talk about this?"

"I think we need to," she said, putting a hand on his knee.

Mac took a moment, visibly gathering himself. "Okay," he said. "Let's go there. We were in the derelict mill. You two were on your way out with the Director. That last shooter came up behind me, would've popped me if Michael hadn't got him first."

"I remember," Li Ann said.

"When I heard those gunshots, my first thought was that Michael had turned on us," Mac recalled. "I drew on him, remember? But then I saw what he'd done—that he'd just saved my life. You two left, and Michael and I had a little chat. I told him ... I forgave him. I trusted him. For about, oh, two point five seconds, we were brothers again." Mac grimaced. "Then he sucker-punched me. Once I was down, he explained that he'd needed to regain my trust specifically so that he could betray me, like I'd betrayed him." He raised his cup unsteadily and took a sip of tea. Li Ann squeezed his knee.

"We both betrayed him," Mac added, very quietly. "But I guess I betrayed him worse."

Vic was about to object to that line of thought, but Li Ann spoke up first.

"I never told you," Li Ann said, "why I changed my mind and agreed to leave Hong Kong with you."

Mac looked at her. "No," he said. "You didn't."

"Michael murdered a man in cold blood," she said. "Right in front of me."

Mac gave a little nod, like this was new information but not particularly shocking. "I remember when you came to me," he said. "You were shaking."

"It was Mr. Fong," Li Ann said. "A small-time associate of the Tangs," she added, for Vic's benefit. "We had dinner with him, and afterwards when he went out to his car—Michael had arranged for a bomb. When it exploded ... Michael looked so _happy_ , so proud of what he'd done."

"Whoa, whoa, time out," Vic said. "This wasn't something you thought worth bringing up when Michael showed up working for the Director?"

"No," Li Ann said. "Why? Do you think it would have made a difference? She knew who Michael was."

"We knew he was a gangster," Vic said. "We didn't know he was a psychopath. The Director might have played things differently if she'd known what you're telling me now."

"Or not," Mac said. "She got what she wanted out of him, didn't she? Took down Poochie. Poochie was her problem; Michael was mine."

"Seems like he still is," Vic pointed out. "You ready to talk about the dreams?"

Mac shook his head and leaned forward to place his teacup on the coffee table. Still hunched over, he sneezed. Then he swore, clutching at his side. " _Fuck_ that hurt. Is it time for the painkillers yet?"

"Not even close." Vic handed Mac the tissue box.

Mac blew his nose carefully; it was obvious he didn't want to breathe too deeply. Vic wondered whether this was really the best time to hash out Mac's issues with Michael—in a few days, when Mac was over the cold and his ribs had started to knit, he'd be a lot less miserable. Maybe it would be better to wait until then.

But the image that had occurred to Vic earlier came back to him—Michael as a bleeding wound. _Michael_ was one of the reasons Mac was miserable, and putting off talking about it probably wasn't doing Mac any favours.

"Michael was hurting you," Vic prompted. "In your dream tonight. That's what you said when you woke up."

"Right," Mac said, a bit uncertainly. "It's kind of fuzzy now. I think it was mixed up with what happened in the barn. I had the bag over my head and Michael slammed me against a wall and held me there while he—" he cut himself off abruptly. "Never mind," he said. "I guess it was the pain from my ribs bleeding into the dream." He reached for his teacup and raised it to his lips; even though he'd taken it with both hands, he was shaky enough that some of the tea splashed over the edge.

Vic had a sudden, chilling thought. "Mac," he said. "In the barn—did one of those fuckers rape you?"

"What?" Mac's surprise seemed unfeigned. "Jesus, no. They never touched me except with their steel-toed boots. Why would you even think—? Oh, right. No, that's not what I meant. The sex part wasn't from the barn. The bag over my head, that was from the barn. And the broken ribs. Michael never hurt me that badly."

Vic was not nearly as reassured by that as Mac clearly meant for him to be. "How badly _did_ Michael hurt you?" he asked—and somehow the words came out very close to a growl.

Mac gave Vic a funny look. "Not very," he said. "He was a little rough sometimes. Left bruises. I mean, what would you expect? It was _Michael_."

"He never hurt me," Li Ann said pensively, breaking her lengthy silence. "I think he probably would have, though, if I'd married him."

"I was different with him than I was with you, too," Mac said to her.

Vic was still stuck on the bruises, and the dream. "Mac," he said, "In real life, did Michael ever ... force himself on you?" He deliberately avoided the word 'rape' this time, because he'd noticed that Mac tended to deflect questions that implied the worst about Michael.

"No, not very often," Mac said. "I mean, I knew refusing him wasn't really an option."

Vic was starting to feel shaky himself—there was a rage building deep inside him, and a growing realization that Mac had been far more badly wounded than Vic had previously guessed.

Because that 'no' was really a 'yes,' and Vic wasn't sure if Mac even realized it himself.

Vic tried to catch Li Ann's eye, but she was focused on Mac. Vic couldn't tell what she was thinking. She didn't look as horrified as Vic felt. More like ... pensive.

"So are all the nightmares like that?" Vic finally asked. "The ones that wake you up every night?"

Mac shook his head. "No. Usually I dream about fighting him." He stifled a cough, winced, and took a sip of tea. He kept talking without looking up, huddled over his cupped hands. "I dream that he's trying to kill me. You know, sort of like how he actually did? Only in the dreams, I manage to fight back. And we yell at each other a lot. He's so angry, and hurt. There's nothing I can say to get through to him."

" _He's_ hurt?" Vic repeated, incredulously.

Mac lifted his head to glare at Vic. "Well, I _did_ betray him, didn't I?" he said. Vic saw with dismay that Mac's eyes were wet—he was on the verge of tears. "And now he's dead."

"Uh, yeah, after he tried to kill you and Li Ann on three fucking separate occasions," Vic pointed out, still somehow hoping to keep things in perspective.

"He saved my life," Mac said. "Got me off the street. I owed him everything." Tears were running down his face now, and Vic felt sick at the fact that Mac was crying over Michael.

It seemed like Mac was completely unaware how fucked-up his relationship with Michael had been.

"You know what, actually?" Vic said. "I've been thinking about that. And I really don't think you should give Michael credit for saving you, Mac. You were a thirteen-year-old anglophone white kid. You were _clearly_ a foreigner, clearly lost—I know you were scared to go to the police but you could've gone to _any_ adult. A shop clerk, a bus driver, anybody. Any decent human being would've figured out how to help you. Found somebody who spoke English, figured out you were Canadian, brought you to the Canadian Consulate. Michael didn't rescue you, he took advantage of you."

Mac swiped his tears away with the inside of his wrist, and sniffed. He gave Vic a withering look. "Do you think I was stupid when I was thirteen? I knew that if I turned myself over to the authorities I'd probably end up back in Canada. And then what? They would've put me in another a group home, another petri dish of fucked-up kids and burnt-out, angry social workers. At least in Hong Kong I had my freedom."

"Wait," Vic said. "You were in a group home? When? I thought your dad raised you."

"Shit, no," Mac said. "I barely even saw him, growing up. My mom raised me."

"How did you end up in Hong Kong with your dad, then?" Vic asked. This was getting them off the topic of Michael, but maybe that was for the best. And Vic was curious about Mac's pre-Hong Kong life; it certainly wasn't something they'd ever talked about before.

"Well, my mom died when I was twelve," Mac said. "My dad showed up a while later and applied for custody. Not the best idea he ever had. I guess he got excited when he heard I'd gotten kicked out of two foster homes for stealing. He thought I was gonna play the Artful Dodger to his Fagin, or something."

Vic blinked. "The what to his who, now?"

"Oliver Twist," Li Ann supplied helpfully.

"Oh," Vic said. "I never saw that movie."

Mac kind of snickered. "It's a book, Vic. By Charles Dickens."

Vic looked doubtfully at Mac. " _You_ read Charles Dickens?"

"Well, not voluntarily," Mac admitted. "Our tutor in Hong Kong had a big stick."

Li Ann, smirking, mimed smacking Mac across the knuckles. "Mac got the worst of it," she said. "I was a model pupil in comparison."

"You know, in the schools I went to, the teachers weren't actually allowed to hit the kids," Vic said. He could tell that Mac and Li Ann were trying to change the subject and lighten the mood, but Vic didn't think it was funny.

"Well, that's probably why you never read Dickens," Mac said.

"Could we not joke about people hurting you?" Vic snapped. "Jesus _Christ_ Mac, what Michael did to you was not okay. You were thirteen, you were homeless, you were vulnerable—you probably had no _idea_ what he was asking of you at first—"

"Uh, Vic, I think you're projecting," Mac said. "Maybe when _you_ were thirteen you were naïve and vulnerable. But in case you haven't been paying attention: I was a pretty tough case by the time I started hanging out around the door of Michael's gym. I'd been living on the street for months. And before that I'd had three years of foster homes and group homes and juvie, and then a couple of months travelling with my dad, learning his tricks. I knew what I wanted from Michael and I knew how to get it."

"Wait, three years?" Vic said. "I thought you said your mom died when you were twelve."

"Well yeah," Mac said. "I'd already been in the system for a couple of years by then. They took me away from her when I was ten, after she broke my arm."

"Oh shit," Vic said. He hadn't meant to say it out loud—it was just that suddenly the picture was so clear. "Your mom abused you."

"What?" Mac said. "No. I mean, that's what the social workers said too, but no. She loved me. She only hit me when she was drunk. I think I wasn't really an easy kid to raise, you know?"

"Listen to yourself, Mac," Vic said. His throat felt tight. "You're making excuses for your mom, you're making excuses for Michael, you're making excuses for—for your fucking _tutor_ who _hit_ you—can't you see it's a pattern? Michael's just the worst fucking part of it. _None_ of it is okay. Those things should not have happened to you."

"A lot of it sucked," Mac conceded with a shrug. "But it could've been worse. And it's all ancient history, except for Michael."

"It could have been _worse_?" Vic sputtered. "How? If your father had sold you to Satanists instead of abandoning you?"

Suddenly Vic was aware of a shift that he couldn't quite parse. Mac and Li Ann both kind of stiffened, and nobody said anything for a moment.

"What?" Vic said finally. " _Were_ there Satanists?"

Instead of answering him, Mac said something to Li Ann, very quietly, in Chinese. He sounded worried.

"No," she replied in English, glancing back towards Vic but addressing Mac, "I never told him. I suppose that now is as good a time as any."

"Never told me what?" Vic asked, with a feeling like a stone suddenly lodged in his stomach.

Li Ann took a deep breath. "My parents did sell me," she said. "I was the youngest of four girls. We were starving. They didn't have any better choices."

"Oh, shit," Vic said. "Shit. I had no idea, Li Ann. I'm so sorry I joked about that."

She gave a tight shrug. "You didn't know."

Vic stood up and moved to the other end of the couch, so he could sit down beside her. Her posture was rigid, and Mac had taken one of her hands. Vic took the other one. "Are you okay?" he asked, even though it was a stupid question.

"It was a long time ago," Li Ann said. "I was twelve."

"Jesus," Vic whispered. "Who did they sell you _to_?"

"There was a woman who brought girls across the border into Hong Kong," Li Ann said. "I think she told my parents the girls were put to work in rich people's households, as servants. Anyway, that's what they told me when they sent me to her. That's not what it really was, of course. It was for the sex trade."

Vic had no idea what to say. He wanted there to be somebody he could punch, somebody he could shoot. He realized he was squeezing Li Ann's hand much too hard; he forced himself to relax. "That's ... Li Ann, that's awful," he said, numbly.

She shook her head. "I got lucky, really. The godfather acquired the brothel less than a month after I landed there. When he found out how old the girls were, he let most of them go."

"But you, he adopted?"

She surprised Vic with a quick little smile. "I caught his attention."

Mac smirked. "She stole his wallet."

Vic saw that Mac and Li Ann were sharing a sort of amused affectionate look. Like any two siblings reminiscing about a funny childhood memory.

Funny childhood stories about living in a brothel, about living on the street, about being adopted into one of the most powerful and dangerous criminal gangs in the world. Right.

Vic thought he suddenly had a lot more insight into those moments that happened from time to time when Mac and Li Ann abruptly seemed to be on the same wavelength, one that excluded him. He'd always known that they had a lot of common references, having grown up together for ten years—but he'd never thought about how they got there in the first place.

Two abandoned, broken children. Fuck.

"I can't believe you never said anything about this before," Vic said. "I mean—God, I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it. But you let me go on and on about my parents—about how my mom hated my clothes, hated my apartment, hated my friends, hated my job—I'm sitting there complaining about my parents being passive-aggressive and judgemental, and you're listening sympathetically, and taking my side, and holding my hand—and you never bring up the fact that your parents fucking _sold_ you into _prostitution_? You must have thought I was such an asshole."

"No," Li Ann said very quickly, emphasizing it with a quick kiss on his cheek. "You had no idea—how could you? And I never made that kind of comparison, Vic. You had a right to be pissed off at your parents for the way they treated you. It was a completely different context. I never thought you were an asshole."

"I did," Mac interjected. "You listen to country music and drive a big red pickup truck in the city." He snickered lightly, and Li Ann glared at him.

"Anyway, I _don't_ like to talk about it," she said. "Or think about it. It's an unpleasant part of my history but it doesn't define me."

"Right," Mac said. "Likewise." Then he turned aside to cough. As soon as he was done he grabbed a pillow and clutched it to his chest, panting with shallow breaths. " _Fuck_ ," he breathed. "Is it six a.m. yet?"

Vic glanced at the clock; it was just about quarter to. "Close enough," he said.

Li Ann left the room and came back with the pill bottle. After Mac took his dose—two pills, handed over by Li Ann—he announced his intention to go back to bed.

"I could use some more sleep, too," Li Ann said. She did look a bit haggard.

Vic guessed this night had been hard on both of them.

"I think I'm up for good," he said. "You two go ahead."

Vic helped Li Ann push Mac's bed up against the wall, to solve the potential problem of Mac falling out if he started dreaming again. Then Mac and Li Ann climbed into bed together. Vic pulled the curtains shut for them against the encroaching dawn.

He looked back one last time before he left the room. They were curled towards each other, holding hands with their fingers entwined. Vic waited for a stab of jealousy, but it didn't come.

After the revelations of the night, he thought he had a much better idea of what they meant to each other. They had a connection he could never possibly touch—and would never want to, because it was rooted in their both having survived horrific circumstances. Vic had no comparable experiences. Most people didn't.

Rather than jealousy, he had an overwhelming feeling of needing to protect them both. He just had no idea how.

* * *

Vic put on coffee, made some toast, and found himself calling the Director.

"What is it?" she said when she answered. She sounded groggy. Vic remembered that it was just barely six in the morning. Oops.

Oh well, he had her on the line now. "How much do you know about Mac's and Li Ann's lives from before they joined the Tangs?" he asked.

"Li Ann grew up in extreme rural poverty in Canton province, southern China," the Director said. "Her parents sold her to a brothel in Hong Kong when she was twelve. She was only there for three weeks before the Tang godfather acquired the place and shut it down. The madam hadn't found a buyer for Li Ann's virginity yet, although it seems likely she had required her to service a few clients in other ways."

Vic found himself sitting down without remembering how he'd gotten there. He was unnerved by the Director's sudden over-sharing; all he'd expected to drag out of her had been an 'everything' or a 'not much.'

"Mac was raised by his mother, who was an alcoholic and in later years a drug addict," the Director went on. "She lost custody of him temporarily when he was seven, and permanently when he was ten; the caseworker cited ongoing neglect and physical abuse. He bounced around in the foster system for a few years, and he did a six month stint in a juvenile detention centre after he stabbed another boy with a fork. Knowing Mac," she added, "I assume the other boy deserved it."

"Did Li Ann and Mac tell you all this stuff?" Vic asked, incredulous.

"No. With regards to Mac, I have access to the official records," the Director said. "I got the details about Li Ann from Michael just a few months ago."

"And you're telling me now? Just because I asked?"

"Well, you called me at six in the morning and brought it up apropos of nothing. I assume it's important, and I further assume that you already know most of this from Mac and Li Ann themselves, or you wouldn't have thought to ask. Am I wrong?"

"Um, no," Vic managed to say. He felt all off balance, somehow. "You're not wrong."

"So which one of them is in crisis?" the Director asked, impatiently.

"What?" Vic said. And then he thought about it for a second. "Well, Mac, I guess. Only—I mean, I don't think I'd call it a _crisis_."

"If it's not a crisis," said the Director in a dangerous tone, "then why are you calling me at six in the morning?"

"I don't know," Vic admitted. "I just didn't know what else to do." He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Okay, maybe it is a crisis. Mac's been falling apart since Michael died. You know that, right?"

"I was aware," she said drily.

"Yeah, well, I thought maybe talking about it would help him. Only I got way more than I bargained for. I am seriously out of my depth here. I was thinking maybe you could get somebody to talk to them. Him. Them. Like, a professional?"

"Vic," the Director said calmly, "Both Mac and Li Ann have been required to attend bi-weekly therapy sessions ever since joining the Agency. It's standard procedure."

"Really?" Vic blinked. "They never said anything." He thought about it for a second. "Hey, how come _I_ don't get therapy?"

"Your psychological problems have always been far too mundane for me to worry about," the Director said, with a smirk in her voice. "If you'd like, though, I can set something up for you."

"Uh, no thanks," Vic said. "But it's good to know that Mac and Li Ann are, um, working through their issues. So I guess that's okay then. Er, sorry I called you so early in the morning."

"Be more careful with your assumptions, Mr. Mansfield," the Director said before he could hang up. "I never said either one of them was making _progress_ in therapy. Li Ann usually spends her sessions doing the Sunday crossword puzzle. Mac talks the therapist's ear off, but he manages to do it without ever letting slip a single personal detail or authentic emotion. His first psychologist quit in despair after six months. I believe the new one is writing a paper on the experience."

"Wait a second," Vic said. "Are you actually allowed to be telling me this?"

"Oh, go ahead, tell me how shocked and appalled you are at my breach of professional ethics and doctor-patient confidentiality," the Director said. "Goodness gracious, you never would have expected it of me."

"I think maybe I can guess why neither of them opens up to their therapist," Vic muttered.

"Ah, but they've opened up to you," the Director said. "Haven't they? They trust you. Who knows, you might even do them some good."

"But I don't know what to do," Vic protested. "I have no idea how to talk to them about the stuff they just told me."

"Oh well, wing it," the Director said. "Listen, Vic. We aren't ordinary people. We don't follow the normal rules. Granted, Mac and Li Ann are a little farther outside of ordinary than you are—but that just means you're in the best position to keep them grounded."

"Huh?" Vic said. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I want to get off the phone and go back to sleep," she said. "You'll work something out." The phone clicked.

"Great," Vic said to the dial tone. "Thanks for the helpful advice."


	15. Chicken Soup

It was past nine o'clock before Mac or Li Ann stirred, and then the first thing Vic heard was Li Ann coughing.

A few minutes later, she came out to the kitchen and went straight for the tissue box.

"Oh," Vic said, sympathetically. "Looks like you've caught Mac's cold."

"Apparently," Li Ann said. "Ugh." She blew her nose, and then went hunting through Mac's cupboards.

"Want some coffee?" Vic offered. "I can make more."

"No, I'd rather have tea."

"Is Mac awake?"

"Yeah, he was going to take a shower." Li Ann found the tea, and went to fill the kettle.

So they had a few minutes before he joined them. "Li Ann," Vic said, urgently. "About last night."

She froze for a moment; the kettle overfilled. Just for a moment. "What about last night?" she asked, tipping the kettle to drain out the extra water.

"First of all," Vic said, "I wanted to thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what you did."

She grimaced, carrying the kettle to the stove. "Knowing about my past isn't a privilege," she said. "More like a burden. One I never intended to lay on you."

"Your _trust_ is a privilege," Vic said. "Your past is just your past. You didn't choose it. I'm glad I know more about it now, so maybe I can avoid putting my foot in my mouth so much in the future, but if you'd rather not talk about it anymore, I'll respect that."

Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and she turned to face Vic. "Thanks," she said.

"But the other thing is," Vic said, "we should talk about Mac."

Li Ann glanced automatically in the direction of the bedroom and bathroom. Just at that moment, there was the faint sound of the shower starting up. "All right," she said. "But you know, Vic, I don't think he really likes talking about the past, either. What he told us last night—I didn't know any of that."

Vic found that strange, actually. "So ... he joined the Tangs before you? He knew how _you'd_ ended up in the family."

She shook her head. "I told him years later. Just before we ran away together. I was trying to explain how much I owed the godfather, why I could never leave."

"So when you were kids, you never talked about that stuff."

"God no." She went and started preparing the teapot. "Actually at first we literally _couldn't_ talk to each other. I didn't know any English, and he had only a few words of Cantonese. Later, when we had enough language in common, we talked about the present. Or the future. Never the past."

"Okay," Vic said. "I get the picture. But I wanted to talk to you about Michael. Specifically about how we're going to help Mac get over him. Um, ideas?" he finished, feebly.

Li Ann grimaced. "I wish I knew how to get over Michael. I still dream about him sometimes, too." She shuddered. "I dream about killing him."

"I'm sorry," Vic said, quietly. "I didn't realize."

"It's getting better," she said. "At least—the dreams don't come as often now. And when I think about him—I feel angry, I feel sad, I feel regret over the _waste_ of it all—but it's not as sharp as it used to be."

"I don't think it's getting better for Mac," Vic said.

The kettle whistled. Li Ann carefully took it off the stove and poured water into the teapot. Steam obscured her face for a moment. "No," she said finally. "You may be right. But I don't think there's anything we can _do_ about it. All we can do is be there for him, and hope that Michael's hold over him fades with time."

* * *

Since Li Ann and Mac were both sick now, Vic decided unilaterally that the two of them should spend the day on the couch watching movies and letting Vic feed them chicken soup and ice cream.

"I'm not that sick," Li Ann protested when Vic laid out his plan. "I could go check in at the Agency, see if the Director needs us for anything today."

"She doesn't," Vic said. "I called and checked while you were in the shower." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Let me take care of you for once, okay?"

It was a quiet day. Considerably more peaceful than the previous one. Mac accepted his painkillers on the six-hour schedule without protest, although from little physical cues Vic could tell that he was still in a lot of pain when he breathed, let alone when he coughed or sneezed. Li Ann's symptoms worsened over the day, so by late afternoon she was matching Mac kleenex for kleenex. They huddled together on the couch with Mac's comforter wrapped around them, occasionally asking Vic to bring them more tea.

Vic deliberately left them alone in the living room for a while, in case they had things they needed to talk about between just the two of them. When he returned, though, Li Ann was quietly watching the last of the movies, and Mac was leaning against her, apparently asleep.

"How are you doing?" Vic asked.

"Blech," she said. "I can't breathe through my nose, and it feels like something crawled into my throat and died." She looked sheepishly up at Vic. "Sorry. I'm gross, and this must be a hassle for you. I was supposed to be helping you take care of Mac."

"You're totally beautiful, even when you're sick," Vic said. He leaned over her and kissed her on the cheek. "And I like taking care of you. Makes me feel useful."

It made him feel less ridiculously helpless, anyway. Vic was fully aware that what he really wanted to fix—the damage that had been done to Li Ann and Mac as children—was not actually fixable.

But at least he could make them chicken soup.

"Hey!" Mac said, without opening his eyes. "Don't I get a kiss?"

Li Ann shifted and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "There," she said.

"Vic, your lips are so surprisingly soft," Mac said, grinning, with his eyes still closed.

"Yeah, and Li Ann's stubble is surprisingly bristly," Vic said, and planted a kiss on Mac's forehead.

Then he darted a worried glance in Li Ann's direction, as it belatedly occurred to him that the kiss might fall in the category of things she didn't think he should do to Mac.

It seemed to be okay, though. Li Ann was laughing at him with her eyes.

"Okay," Vic said. "Who wants ice cream?"

* * *

The next day went about the same. Vic went out to get more movies and re-stock the kleenex. He also checked in at his own apartment, and found it accessible and apparently unmolested, except for a very faint chemical smell. He took the better part of an hour to check for new surveillance devices, and came up empty.

They didn't do any more talking about serious issues. Vic could tell that both Li Ann and Mac preferred it that way, and he figured that was okay, at least for now.

It occurred to him that he and Li Ann were functioning more like a married couple now than they ever had when they were engaged. Not just in the mundanities, like washing the dishes together in the afternoon while Mac napped on the couch, but also in terms of trust and honesty.

He understood now that she'd kept him at arm's length emotionally throughout their previous relationship. He remembered his shock the previous week when she'd confessed to him that she'd kept a bag packed the whole time, that she'd been ready to run at any moment without even saying goodbye.

It was different now.

And Vic realized a lot of the difference was due to Mac's involvement.

Vic had to admit to himself that if Mac had never shown up in Vancouver, he and Li Ann might have married but she probably never would have let him through her defences as much as she had in the past few days.

In fact he remembered the one time she'd been sick during their engagement—she'd kicked him out of her apartment and refused to see him until she was better again.

Now he wondered whether she would even have permitted herself to be cared for if Mac hadn't been around. They took their cues from each other, Vic realized. Mac ate when Li Ann ate. Li Ann rested when Mac rested.

And Vic kept himself busy, and tried not to think about how he wanted to kiss Mac almost as much as he wanted to kiss Li Ann.

* * *

The following morning, Li Ann woke up feeling a lot better, and by noon she claimed to be almost back to normal. Her voice was still a bit hoarse, but Vic could see that she had her usual poise and energy back.

Mac's health, on the other hand, didn't seem at all improved. In fact his cough seemed to be getting worse. Vic found this worrying, but he kept his concerns to himself for the time being; he just tried to pay closer attention to Mac.

Li Ann went out in the afternoon to do errands and check on her own apartment. Vic took over keeping Mac company on the couch. They watched _Honey, I Shrunk the Kids_ —Vic was sick of Hong Kong cinema, and Mac didn't object.

They started out sitting side by side, not touching, but soon Mac was edging closer to Vic.

"Is it okay if I lean on you?" Mac asked, surprising Vic with the explicitness of his question.

"Uh, yeah." Vic cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's okay."

"Good. You're comfortable," Mac said.

And that was all they said about that.

* * *

Vic made fried rice with shrimp and tofu for supper. Mac barely ate any of it. He went to bed almost immediately afterwards—it wasn't quite eight o'clock.

Vic and Li Ann shared a worried look.

"He's getting worse," Vic said, finally voicing the concern he'd been carrying around silently all day. "I think we should drag him into the Agency tomorrow, get Medical to check him out again."

Li Ann nodded. "Probably a good idea," she said.

* * *

Mac woke them all up around three a.m., thrashing around in the throes of another nightmare.

Well, that was normal.

What wasn't normal was that even after they woke him up, he kept calling Vic 'Michael' and trying to apologize for stealing his painting.

Finally Mac doubled over in a scary, wracking coughing fit. When it was done, he was gasping with pain but he remembered where he was.

"I need more codeine," he gritted out, clutching a pillow against his chest. "Now, please?"

Vic automatically glanced at the clock to see if they were on schedule yet, but then remembered that Mac hadn't woken up for his usual dose at midnight. "Yeah, it's time," he said.

Li Ann left to get the pills from whatever mysterious hiding place she'd stashed them in—she'd refused to even tell Vic where they were, claiming he'd probably give it away to Mac unconsciously if he knew.

Vic turned on the bedside light and took a good look at Mac. He was lying curled up around the pillow, breathing in shallow gasps. His eyes were shadowed, and his skin looked pale and clammy. Without really thinking about it, Vic put a hand on Mac's forehead.

"Oh, shit," he said. "You're burning up."

Li Ann came back with the pills and a glass of water.

"Can I have three?" Mac asked, sitting up. "It _really_ hurts."

"Nope," Li Ann said.

Mac reached out to take the glass. His hands were shaking. He quickly washed down the pills, handed the glass back to Li Ann, and sort of collapsed back down onto the mattress. Vic saw that he was shivering.

Vic pulled the covers up over Mac. "Uh, Li Ann," he said quietly. "I think we should take him to a 24-hour clinic, like, _now_."

Mac gave a little moan. "God no," he said. "Just lemme sleep."

Li Ann glanced at the clock. "If we take him to a clinic, we'll probably have to wait for hours," she said. "The Agency opens at 8 o'clock and the doctor would see him right away. She'll have his records, too. And you know how the Director hates it when we get involved in the regular medical system unnecessarily."

"She hates not being in control of a situation," Vic acknowledged. "But I don't think we should wait that long to get Mac to a doctor. I think he has pneumonia."

"You might be right," Li Ann said, giving Mac a worried look. "I still think it's a better idea to bring him in to Medical at 8 a.m. than to drag him out to some clinic and make him sit for hours in the waiting room, though."

"Maybe," Vic said, uncertain. "But we should at least check how high his fever is. Mac, have you got a thermometer somewhere?"

"What?" Mac said, kind of vaguely. "No. Fuck, I'm freezing. Can somebody get me another blanket?"

Vic caught Li Ann's eye. "I know where there's an all-night pharmacy near here," he said. "I can run out and get a thermometer right now."

She nodded. "All right. Um, what should I do in the meantime?"

"Try to keep him comfortable, I guess."

She looked really worried, so Vic gave her a quick tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's gonna be okay," he said.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Vic returned to Mac's apartment armed with a digital thermometer and some helpful advice from the pharmacist on the graveyard shift.

He ripped the cardboard box open on his way to the bedroom. "If Mac's got a temperature over 102, we're going to the E.R.," he called out, in a tone that he hoped brooked no argument.

No argument was forthcoming. The bedroom was empty.

"Uh, guys?" Vic said. "Where are you?" The apartment wasn't that big, and he'd gone through most of it on the way to the bedroom.

A quick check of the bathroom confirmed that Vic was alone in the apartment.

"Shit," he said.

He quickly looked around for a note, but couldn't find one.

He tried Li Ann's cell phone.

She answered on the third ring. "Vic?" she said. Her voice sounded tight and panicky, and there was a lot of background noise. "I can't talk, we're in an ambulance. We're going to Mount Sinai. Meet us there."

" _Shit_ ," Vic said again, with feeling.

* * *

There wasn't much traffic at 3:30 in the morning; Vic made it to Mount Sinai Hospital in just under ten minutes. Five more to park the car and find Li Ann in the emergency room waiting area.

She was sitting stiffly with her hands folded on her lap. Her face was like stone. When she saw Vic she jerked to her feet, and then didn't quite seem to know what to do with herself. Vic noticed that she was still wearing her pyjamas under her winter coat.

"Li Ann," he said, his voice catching in his throat. He drew her in for a firm hug. "What happened? Where's Mac?"

"I don't know," she said. "A few minutes after you left, he—all of a sudden he couldn't breathe. His lips started going blue. I called 911. I came in the ambulance but when we got here they wouldn't let me go in with him—I told them I was his sister but they thought I was lying." She gave a desperate little laugh, muffled against Vic's shoulder. "I should've told them I was his fiancé."

"I could try it," Vic said, thinking quickly. "I could say I'm his boyfriend. Might work, depending on who's on shift."

Li Ann sniffed, and Vic realized she was crying. "You probably shouldn't go there," she said. "Remember they're going to see the bruises. You don't want them to think maybe you're the one who gave them to him."

"Damn it," Vic said, because she had a point.

Something buzzed.

"Is that your phone?" Vic asked.

Li Ann nodded, still keeping her head tucked against his shoulder. "It can go to voicemail," she said. "Vic, I was so scared," she added in a tiny voice.

"I'm sorry I left you there alone," he said.

Li Ann's phone stopped buzzing, and a second later Vic's phone started to ring.

People all around looked up and glared at him; there were NO CELLULAR PHONES signs posted all over the room they were in. "Uh, I think maybe I should take this," he said to Li Ann.

He headed for the exit and flipped his phone open.

"Hello?" he said.

"Vic." It was the Director. "Is Li Ann with you?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at her. She'd followed him out into the hall, and was wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her coat.

"Sorry for the hour, but I need both of you on the job right now. There's trouble in New Zealand."

Vic frowned. "Isn't that a little far from here?"

"Well, the action's going down at the local New Zealand Consulate. You need to get there pronto. Dobrinsky will brief you on site."

"Wait!" Vic said before she could hang up, which she sounded like she was about to do. "We can't. We're at the Mount Sinai E.R. right now. Mac's really sick."

"Oh dear," said the Director. "Has he been seen by a doctor yet?"

"I guess they took him in right away," Vic said. "We haven't heard anything since then."

"Well, if he's being looked after by the medical staff then he doesn't need you for the moment," the Director said. "It's a hostage situation at the consulate, and lives are on the line. Get over there, _now_."


	16. Down Under

The hostage drama turned out to be more complicated than it had first appeared, and by noon Vic and Li Ann were headed for New Zealand.

Vic's phone rang just as he and Li Ann, disguised as an elderly couple, were about to pre-board their flight at gate 27.

"Hello?" he said in his best old-man voice.

"Vic?" said the Director. "Are you all right? You sound like you have something caught in your throat."

"Everything's fine, dear," he said. "We talked to that nice young man, and he told us where to find the missing library books." For 'library books' read 'stolen military blueprints' and for 'talked' read 'threatened to break his fingers one by one,' but Vic knew the Director would get the gist of it.

"Call me _dear_ again and I'll order Dobrinsky to hide your eight-track collection," she said. "Anyway, I wasn't calling for an update—the consul already told me everything. She's grateful for the rescue, by the way, though she wishes you would have been a little more careful with the potted plants."

"Better they get shot than _she_ does," Vic muttered.

Li Ann elbowed him. Vic glanced around guiltily to see if anyone had caught him breaking character.

Dammit, he wasn't nearly as good at this undercover thing as Li Ann and Mac were.

"I just wanted to let you know that a representative of the New Zealand federal police will be waiting for you in plainclothes at the airport when you land in Aukland tomorrow. He'll set you up with equipment and resources. He'll be wearing a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey, so he should be easy to spot."

"Okay," Vic said. He noticed the gate agent looking impatiently towards himself and Li Ann. "Uh, we're about to get on the plane—is there any word about Mac?"

"He's stable," the Director said. "He had a collapsed lung, but they were able to treat it without surgery. He's also being treated for pneumonia. It was a rough night, but I expect he'll be fine. Tell Li Ann not to worry, all right? The two of you need to keep your minds on the job at hand."

* * *

He told Li Ann not to worry, and he told _himself_ not to worry, but it was easier said than done—especially since it was three days before they got any more news.

Vic kept thinking back to when he'd last seen Mac—curled up on his bed, feverish and shivering and nearly delirious. In retrospect, Vic realized he'd been an idiot to leave the apartment. He should have insisted that they take Mac to the E.R. as soon as he'd noticed his fever—the Director had warned them from the start that there was a risk of pneumonia.

And, well, getting to the hospital twenty minutes earlier might not have made much difference for Mac, but it would have been a lot easier for Li Ann at least. Vic really wanted to kick himself for leaving her alone to deal with that crisis. The experience had clearly terrified her. Now she refused to even talk about Mac—when Vic mentioned his name she bristled and reminded him that they were working, that they needed to stay focused, that it was not an appropriate time to talk about personal matters.

Their second night in New Zealand, they checked into a motel. They hadn't caught up to the guy with the blueprints yet, but they were too exhausted to drive any further that night.

Li Ann was just closing her phone when Vic got out of the shower. "It was the Director," she said. "She wants us to move fast and keep a low profile; the Americans have started sniffing around."

"Shit," Vic said.

They'd already figured out that the blueprints involved secret American military technology that Canada wasn't even supposed to know about; if the Americans found out that their favoured allies had 'borrowed' the plans and then managed to lose them to a New Zealand-based arms dealer, there was going to be hell to pay.

It wasn't until they were in bed with the lights off, Li Ann spooned in front of Vic, that she told him the other piece of news from the Director. "Mac's out of the hospital."

Vic had an almost dizzying sensation of tension draining away. "That's _great_ ," he said. Fuck, he hadn't even realized how worried he'd been—worried that no news was bad news, since he could easily imagine the Director not wanting to pass on bad news to them as long as they were on the other side of the world frantically trying to prevent an international blow-up.

"He's not really back on his feet yet," Li Ann added. "Dobrinsky's going to stay with him for a few days, apparently."

"Oh man," Vic said. "Mac's gonna _hate_ that."

Li Ann gave a sharp, unfunny laugh. "It can't go worse than it did with us. At least Dobrinsky will make sure Mac does his breathing exercises."

"He had breathing exercises?"

"A whole page of them," she said, in a voice that made Vic think of an over-wound guitar string. "I found it in his wallet when I was looking for his Medicare card on the way to the hospital."

"Oh, shit," Vic murmured. "I'd forgotten all about it, but—I had the same thing when I got a cracked rib about five years back. You're supposed to do all these deep breathing things. Hurts like a bitch, but it helps to prevent complications. _Shit_. I should've remembered."

He felt the tickle of Li Ann's hair against his cheek as she shook her head. "No," she said. "Don't blame yourself, Vic. This is on Mac." A quick shudder went through her. "It's so _typical_ of him," she added angrily. "He's so fucking _careless_ with himself."

Vic found himself largely in agreement, but the tight fury in her tone made him reflexively try to defend Mac. "Well, he may have legitimately forgotten about them," he pointed out. "He was pretty doped up on painkillers to start with."

"Right, the painkillers I had to hide in his smoke detector so he wouldn't overdose on them," she shot back.

"The _smoke detector_?" Vic repeated, momentarily distracted. "Is that even safe?"

"Safer than keeping them where Mac could reach them," she said.

"Point," Vic admitted. "Okay, he's been making some bad choices. But he's been through a lot, lately."

Li Ann sighed. "Vic, there's never _been_ a time when that wasn't true."

* * *

The next evening, when Vic took out his phone to check his voicemail, he noticed something weird. "Li Ann, do you know what this means?" he asked, showing her where the letter 'T' had appeared on the screen that normally showed him what number he was dialling.

"You have a text message." She handed the phone back and went back to cleaning her gun. "It's probably from Mac. He sent me one too."

"A what?" he said. "How do I check it?"

Li Ann gave him an exasperated look. "Didn't you read the instructions that came with the phones?"

"Uh, no. Since when do phones need instruction books?"

Rolling her eyes, Li Ann put down her gun and the cleaning rod. "Here," she said, taking the phone and pressing a couple of buttons. "Like that—see?"

Now the top of the little screen said **Message Log: Mac Ramsey**.

And underneath it read: **How's it going in the land down under?**

"Huh," Vic said. "So it's an email?"

"Not exactly," Li Ann said. "You can only send them between cell phones. And they can only be 160 characters long."

Vic squinted at his phone suspiciously. "Whatever happened to _talking_ on the phone?"

She shrugged. "You want to call Mac up and chat? I think it's four in the morning in Toronto right now."

She had a point. "Well, how do I answer it?" he asked.

"See the letters on the number keys? That's how."

Vic studied his phone carefully. The numbers 2 to 9 all had letters on them; they'd always been there, and he'd always ignored them.

With a little experimentation—because Li Ann seemed tired of his questions and had gone back to cleaning her gun—Vic discovered that tapping a number key repeatedly would make the phone cycle through the letters on it. Tapping the 1 got him punctuation.

This had to be the most annoying method of typing that had ever been invented.

 **Land down under is Australia, dope,** he sent. **We're in NZ.**

* * *

When Vic woke up in the morning, he had a new message.

 **NZ is down under too,** it said. **Met any nice sheep yet?**

Vic had to laugh. **Hundreds** , he tapped, painstakingly. **Spent half of yesterday staking out sheep farm. Jealous?**

The reply came through while he was eating breakfast with Li Ann at the diner next to their motel. **Sure. Sheep are pretty. Hope you weren't baaaad.**

Vic snickered, and Li Ann raised an eyebrow at him over her plate of scrambled eggs and toast. "What is it?" she said.

"Another message from Mac." Vic quickly snapped his phone shut so Li Ann couldn't see he'd been laughing at a sheep-fucking joke. "Sounds like he's doing better."

"Good," Li Ann said—not very enthusiastically.

Vic felt his phone vibrate against his leg again, but he didn't check it until Li Ann had gone to pay their bill.

 **Li Ann okay?** it said. **She's not answering my texts.**

 **She's fine,** Vic tapped back quickly. **Little mad at you. Apparently you had breathing exercises?**

 **Shit,** came back the reply, a few seconds later.

* * *

Vic didn't have time to check his phone for the rest of the day. They broke into a fish-processing plant and managed to collar three goons who were running guns out of the basement. The goons worked for the guy who'd stolen the blueprints, and in return for not being buried alive under three tons of frozen fish, one of them gave up the details of the impending sale: it was going to happen in two days' time at a certain dive bar in Wellington.

"All right," Vic said happily as they walked out of the plant, picking fish guts out of their hair. "We're making progress."

"As long as the C.I.A. doesn't catch us," Li Ann reminded him.

"No, it's fine," Vic said. "It'll take them over a week to shear all those sheep. We'll be out of here by then."

They checked into another motel for the night, and Vic checked his phone while Li Ann had a much-needed shower. There was a new message waiting:

**How's the case? Boring here without you. Dobie spent whole day reading Proust and listening to marching bands.**

**Lots of sheep, lots of fish,** Vic tapped in reply. **Haven't been shot at yet, but tomorrow's another day.**

A reply buzzed in about twenty seconds later. **Be careful ok? Don't get shot.**

 **You awake?** Vic sent back in surprise. **It's 4:30 a.m. in Toronto.**

 **Couldn't sleep,** Mac sent. **Glad you texted. Dobie snores.**

Vic raised an eyebrow at his phone. **Dobrinsky sleeping with you???** he sent. That was hard to picture. 

**Haha no,** came back quickly. **Dobie on couch. Wish you were here. Wouldn't kick *you* out of bed.**

Vic stared at the screen of his phone. A little frisson of excitement curled around his belly. Was Mac flirting with him?

Revelation: he _hoped_ Mac was flirting with him.

He decided he'd better check, just to be sure. **Are you flirting with me?** he sent.

He had to wait nearly two minutes for the next message. It came through just as the sound of the shower stopped. **I'd like to have you here up against a wall so I could smash my lips against yours and reach down and squeeze your package through your soft blue jeans.**

Vic stared at the little glowing screen, listening to the blood rush in his ears. The room was much too hot all of a sudden, and his jeans—his soft blue jeans—were much too tight.

Then another message popped up. ***That* was flirting. See?**

Vic scowled at the phone. He got the feeling Mac was messing with his head. **Did you actually mean that or was it just by way of example?**

There was a long-ish pause. Then: **Would you like it if I meant it?**

Vic stopped and thought about it.

So first of all, _yes_. He wanted Mac to mean it. His body wanted Mac to mean it. He felt aroused in the complete sense of the word—his whole body was thrumming, hyper-alert.

All because of one barely-dirty text message.

So on the other hand, maybe not. It was scary, feeling this way. Feeling this way because of _Mac_.

Vic had kissed Mac once, and called him cute. To jump straight from there to explicit fantasies involving genital contact was maybe a little too fast for Vic's comfort. Not that Vic was a fourteen-year-old girl, but he'd never done anything sexual with a guy before and he was a bit nervous about the whole thing.

Mac, on the other hand, was hella experienced, as Vic had come to realize over the course of the week in the listening van. So for him, a playful, sexy text message sent from the other side of the world probably didn't seem like such a big deal.

But then again maybe it _was_ , because there was one other thing that Vic had temporarily forgotten to keep in mind—the fact that Mac was apparently secretly in love with Vic.

Vic wasn't so sure he believed that, actually. Li Ann _thought_ that's what she'd read in Mac's diary, but she'd been skimming quickly. When Mac had tried to downplay it later, he'd really sounded more like he was talking about a crush.

Vic liked the idea of Mac having a crush on him.

 **Yes,** he sent quickly, before he could think better of it.

And then he stared at the little screen, his heart absurdly racing.

 **Good,** came back about thirty seconds later. **Then I meant it.**

* * *

The next day, since they didn't need to do anything for the case, Vic and Li Ann decided to relax. They went out in the morning and bought bathing suits, towels, sun lotion, and trashy paperback novels; thus prepared, they hit the beach.

"Man, I wish every case ended up like this," Vic murmured against Li Ann's ear. She was lying on her back, soaking up the rays. He was soaking up the sight of her bikini-clad body.

"Mmm hmm," Li Ann agreed.

Waves, sand, seagulls; children running and laughing; salt air and a restless breeze. It was a perfect summer day.

Before he opened up his new John Grisham novel, Vic checked his phone.

He had four new texts from Mac since last night.

**There's still some ice cream. I'd like to dribble it down your belly and lap it up.**

**Wish I could kiss your wrists, your ears, the back of your knee. Every sensitive part of you.**

**Bet you would like it if I sat on your lap and ground myself into you while I kissed you deep, bit your lip, dug my fingers into your back.**

**Actually I'd like to go down on you. I'd like to see you get hard for me, take your big cock in my hot mouth and suck it like a lollipop.**

Vic felt himself growing warmer in a way that owed nothing to the sun beating down on his shoulders.

Apparently, once given the green light for flirting, Mac didn't mince words.

The time stamps on the messages showed that Mac had sent one every couple of hours throughout the day in Toronto, while Vic got his eight hours' sleep in New Zealand. Vic imagined Mac sitting on the couch tapping out one of those messages while Dobrinsky lurked obliviously in the background. The thought made him grin.

It was eight p.m. in Toronto now, so Mac would likely get any message Vic sent right away. **I'm on a beach with Li Ann,** Vic tapped. **Having a nice day off.**

Then he closed his phone and opened his book.

It was barely a minute before the phone buzzed.

 **Bastard,** said the message. **It's literally a fucking blizzard here right now. Dobie can't even get here, he's trapped at the Agency.**

 **You ok on your own?** Vic sent back, feeling a little concerned. Not that there was anything he could do about it from a New Zealand beach.

 **Duh yes,** Mac sent. **Going back to work tomorrow anyway.**

Vic raised an eyebrow at that. **Already?**

**Light duty. Surveillance probably. Dir says idle hands do the devil's work.**

"What are you up to?" Li Ann asked, rolling her head to the side and lifting her sunglasses. "You've been playing with your phone for the past ten minutes."

"Texting with Mac," Vic said. "Apparently the Director's putting him back to work tomorrow."

"Already?"

"That's what I said." Vic turned back to his phone. **Wish you were here on the beach with me and Li Ann.**

**Is it a nude beach?**

Vic smirked. **Yes,** he tapped. **Li Ann's nipples are all perky from the sea breeze. Wish you could see.**

It was a couple of minutes before the next message came through. 

**Ground rule: you can lie to me, but leave Li Ann out of it.**

Vic frowned at the phone. That wasn't the kind of response he'd expected.

"What's wrong?" Li Ann asked.

"Uh, I told Mac we were on a nude beach. He didn't believe me."

"You want him to believe you, tell him something plausible," Li Ann advised. "Like we're being chased by mimes." She went back to reading her book.

 **Sorry,** Vic sent. **Thought I was flirting. You sent me some pretty wild texts last night.**

His phone buzzed after about thirty seconds. **Advice for flirting: tell me what *you* want to do to *me*.**

Vic stared at the phone.

Well, okay then.

 **I want** he tapped, and then stopped.

He considered, for one crazy moment, asking Li Ann what Mac liked in bed.

But then he remembered that Li Ann had specifically told him not to toy with Mac's affections.

It occurred to him that she might not approve of some of the messages he'd been sending back and forth with Mac in the past 24 hours.

But that was just because she didn't want Mac to get hurt, and it's not like Vic would do anything to hurt Mac.

Besides, Mac was a grown man; and for that matter, _Mac_ was the one who'd been sending all the sexy texts.

So far.

 **I want to kiss you with your clothes off,** he sent. _Lame, Mansfield_ , he berated himself immediately. Fuck, how could he be thirty-five years old and still be this bad at talking dirty?

 **That's more like it,** came back quickly. **I'll tear my clothes off, fall into bed with you on top. Wanna hold me down?**

Vic swallowed. He should've known by now that Mac didn't have a whole lot of gears between idle and flooring it.

And he wasn't so sure about the scenario Mac had leapt to, either. _Wanna hold me down?_ What, did Mac expect him to start channelling Michael?

But even though he wasn't totally comfortable with how fast this was going or in what direction, Vic was also, undeniably, hard.

In fact, he decided it was about time to roll over onto his belly before some innocent passer-by caught sight of the bulge in his bathing suit.

"Oh hey, do you want me to put more lotion on your back?" Li Ann asked when he moved.

"Um, sure," Vic said. "That'd be great." He flipped his phone closed and put his head down on his arms.

In a moment he felt a cool place on his back, where she'd squirted a dollop of sunscreen. She started rubbing it in, making circles around his back. "You're very pale," she observed. "You've got to be careful or you'll burn."

"My ancestors came from a gloomy, foggy place," Vic replied absently. He was still thinking about Mac's last message.

The thing was, Vic was probably taking it too seriously. It was really just a game. A sexy game, sure, but nothing but words. Nobody was really getting held down. Nobody was really getting kissed. Vic was on a sunny New Zealand beach with Li Ann, and Mac was in Toronto watching a blizzard outside his window.

And if Mac was taking the narrative in a particular direction, it was probably because he liked it.

As soon as Li Ann went back to her book, Vic propped himself up on his elbows and opened his phone. **I've got you pinned by the wrists,** he tapped. **Kissing you hard.**

 **Oh yeah,** came back the reply. **Grinding myself against you. My cock rubbing your hip, want to get your attention.**

 **You've got it,** Vic tapped. He tried to think of what he should do next. A hand job, maybe? **Taking your cock in my fist and pumping it.**

As soon as he'd sent the message, he started to wonder if he'd gone too far. This wasn't just flirting anymore; it was phone sex.

He was lying on a beach next to his girlfriend, having phone sex with another man. Oh God. Did this count as cheating?

No. It wasn't cheating, because they'd already talked about this. They'd agreed that Li Ann could date both Mac and Vic, and that wasn't cheating, so clearly Vic and Mac having phone sex wasn't cheating either.

Except for how Vic was feeling guilty and hiding what he was doing from Li Ann, which did, admittedly, make it seem a little illicit.

 _If she asks what the texts are about,_ Vic decided, _I'll tell her._ Perfect. It wasn't cheating if he had no intention of lying to her, right?

She knew he'd been texting with Mac. If she cared what they were talking about, she'd ask.

Vic's phone buzzed.

A one word message: **J37US.**

Huh? J37...? Oh. _Jesus._ Vic raised an eyebrow. **Did you just come?** he sent.

 **Yes,** came back immediately.

Vic snorted a surprised laugh.

"What's so funny?" Li Ann asked.

"Uh, nothing," Vic said, blushing. "Something Mac said."

Okay, he was lying to Li Ann. Shit.

* * *

Vic continued to feel conflicted and slightly guilty about his ongoing text affair with Mac, but that didn't dampen the hit of adrenaline-laced excitement he felt every time his phone buzzed.

Meanwhile, he and Li Ann had a couple of pleasant, peaceful days and nights together. They made love in the motel room, leisurely in the afternoon after their morning on the beach. They went out for dinner at a swanky Thai place, and Li Ann confessed that she couldn't read the menu any better than he could.

"Wait, I thought you spoke Thai," Vic said.

"No, I lied about that," she said, flipping the menu to the English page. "I just wanted to keep you out of the Thai consulate. That was a job for a thief, not a cop. You would've gotten caught."

Vic snorted. " _You_ got caught."

She smirked. She was really cute when she smirked. "Everything turned out all right in the end."

Vic grinned back at her. "I love you, Li Ann."

She looked bemused. "Because I stole a priceless artifact from the Thai government to keep your girlfriend alive?"

"For the record, Gloria wasn't my girlfriend," Vic pointed out. "But yeah. Because you did that. Because you're beautiful and talented and loyal, and deceitful only in the service of the greater good."

She rolled her eyes at him, but she was still grinning. "So what do you think—should we get spring rolls?"

* * *

The next day, it rained. They spent the morning in the hotel room, alternating between lazy sex and reading their books.

"We've never done this before," Vic mused at one point, kissing her elbow.

"Hm?" She rubbed his ankle with her toes. "Which part?"

"Just spending the whole morning together, naked. Feels like a honeymoon."

"Only without the awkwardness of having gotten married first." She gave a sheepish grin, which took the edge off the comment.

"So when we were engaged—were you really looking for a way out the whole time?" Vic sat up, to see her face better. "I mean, it's okay either way. Water under the bridge."

"I think ... I never really wanted to get married," Li Ann confessed. "But I wanted to want it. There'd been so much turmoil in my life up to that point. You seemed like the antidote to that."

"I've been told I have a stable, reassuring presence," Vic remarked, lightly.

She laughed. "Oh, you do. But who told you that? If it was Mac, he was probably trying to insult you."

Vic shrugged. "I feel kind of bad now, for rushing you into that engagement. I was looking for stability too. Life with the Agency was getting to me. You know, before you and Mac, I never had any regular partners. I'd just get thrown together with different agents on a case-by-case basis. I guess the Director didn't like the chemistry I had with any of them."

"You didn't rush me," Li Ann assured him, laying a hand on his belly. "If anything, I probably rushed you. I was the one who started talking about marriage on our second date, remember?"

Vic shook his head. "Not really."

"You took me to the ballet."

"Right!" The memory came flooding back. "I'd never been to a ballet show before in my life, never even thought of going. I was just trying to impress you."

She smiled. "It worked."

"You wore that tight red dress, slit up to here." He traced a line up her thigh. "Very sexy."

"And _you_ ," she recalled, "Wore a rental tux." She grinned. "It was a tiny bit too tight across the shoulders, and one of the buttons had been replaced." She kissed his forehead. "It was adorable."

"I was aiming for sophisticated," he protested.

"I'm glad that eventually you got comfortable being yourself around me," she remarked.

Vic put on a mock pout. "Are you saying I'm not sophisticated?"

"I am definitely saying you're not sophisticated," she agreed, and kissed him. "And I love you just the way you are."

* * *

"I wish every day could be like this," Vic said to her, later that afternoon. It was still raining, so they'd gone to a museum to look at Maori art.

"No you don't," Li Ann said. "We'd get bored."

Vic looked at her, surprised. "You sound like Mac," he said.

She shrugged. "He'd get bored _first_. But the two of us wouldn't be too far behind. We're used to a certain pace of life, Vic, there's no point in denying it."

"Okay, you're probably right," he admitted. He put his arms around her shoulders and kissed her neck. "Maybe I just wish we could be people who'd want every day to be like this."

* * *

One gun-fight, one high-speed motorcycle chase, and one pick-up rugby match later, the military blueprints were back with their rightful owners and Vic and Li Ann were ready to check out of their hotel room and fly back to Toronto.

Li Ann went down to the front desk to check out while Vic finished packing. It didn't take long, since they hadn't brought much stuff with them. The last thing to pack was Vic's phone, which was still on the bedside table where he'd thrown it before their pre-checkout lovemaking.

He hadn't heard any new messages come in, but he checked the text log anyway—he'd gotten to the point where if Mac hadn't sent him anything in the past few hours, he'd re-read the earlier messages just to feel that excitement again.

He really wondered what it was going to be like, seeing Mac face-to-face in Toronto.

If Mac hadn't been faking it, Vic had brought him to orgasm via text message five times in the past three days.

There didn't seem to be any new texts, but weirdly, the message log had scrolled right up to the first text. **How's it going in the land down under?** Vic smiled, remembering the sheep jokes, and scrolled down.

**Everything ok? Pls call or text me.**

**Vic says you're mad at me. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot, ok? Pls say something.**

That was the whole message log.

That was not Vic's phone.

And if Vic had Li Ann's phone ... _shit_.

Vic grabbed the two duffel bags with the intention of racing downstairs to catch Li Ann, but before he made it to the door, it opened and she walked in.

She tossed him his phone.

"We really should put our names on those things," she said. "You got a message."

Vic cleared his throat awkwardly. "Did you, uh, read it?"

She gave him a pained look. "Well, I thought it was my phone."

"Um, Li Ann..." Vic started, but he didn't know quite what to say. He rubbed the back of his neck, and avoided meeting her eyes.

"What the hell are you up to, Vic?" she asked. She sounded agitated. "Those messages ... I told you, if you want to experiment, fine, go ahead, but not with Mac."

"Well why not?" Vic snapped, as the justifications he'd been making in his own head for the past three days came rushing back to him. "He's a grown man, Li Ann. He can make his own choices."

Her eyes flashed. "He fell for you hard, for the same reason I did. You're kind, you're brave, you're honest—don't you see? He's in love with you, and now you've let him think he has a chance. If this is just a phase for you, you'll crush him."

"Well, what if it's not just a phase?" Vic countered angrily. "What if—have you stopped to consider that I might be in love with him, too?"

Li Ann stared at him, shocked into silence.

Vic felt a little shocked, too, at what he'd just said.

He hadn't even _thought_ it, before. But now that it was out there, there was no denying it.

He had fallen for Mac Ramsey.

And not just in the past few days while they were sending secret dirty texts back and forth, either. This feeling had been growing for a long time.

Since Vic had run back into a building that was about to blow sky high to drag Mac's ass to safety.

Since before that, even.

"Really?" Li Ann asked finally, in a sober voice.

"Yeah," Vic said. "I think so."

She walked over and put her arms around him. Tucked her head down against his shoulder. "All right," she whispered. "But be careful, please. He acts like everything's a joke, but he only does that to hide how much he cares."

"Uh, yeah," Vic said with a forced laugh. "I'd figured out that much." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the texts," he added, meekly. "Are we, um, okay? I mean, you and me?"

"Yes," she said. "Our relationship is independent of anything that happens between the two of you. You're my safe place, Vic. Please don't change that."

"I won't," he said, hugging her tight. "I wouldn't, ever."


	17. They All Have Flaws

Thirty-eight exhausting hours of international travel later, Vic and Li Ann turned a corner in the main Agency hallway and came up against Mac.

His face lit up at the sight of them. "Hey, guys! I didn't know you were in already."

"Hi Mac," Vic said, giving him a quick, automatic wave. "Yeah, the Director wanted to see us as soon as we got off the plane."

Mac's brow furrowed in concern. "You didn't say you'd got hurt."

Vic blinked. It took his jet-lagged brain a moment to connect Mac's words with the bandage on his own still upraised right hand. "Oh, uh, that. It's just a sprained wrist."

Li Ann winced at the memory. "Those C.I.A. guys tackle hard."

"C.I.A.?" Mac repeated, looking back and forth between the two of them. "You had to fight the _Americans_?"

"No, no," Vic assured him. "Just, they caught up with us right at the end, and things got awkward."

"We had to get them drunk and let them beat us at rugby," Li Ann explained.

"It's okay, everything's cool now," Vic added. "Only if you happen to come across a photo of me and Li Ann wearing Boston Bruins jerseys and licking a sheep, please keep in mind: there were circumstances."

"Okay," Mac said, with evident confusion. "Well, I'm just really glad you're both safe and that we're not at war with the United States ... We're not, right?"

"Right," Vic said.

"It's good to see you too," Li Ann added, but in an oddly guarded way. "You look healthy."

"Yeah." Mac gave her a quick, tight smile. "Most of the way there. Ideally I should avoid getting kicked in the ribs for another three or four weeks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Vic promised.

Mac rewarded him with a snicker. "I'll try not to provoke you."

Li Ann looked irritated. "I can't believe you two."

"It's banter!" Mac protested, holding up his hands to emphasis his innocence. "Friendly joshing. We _like_ each other now."

She rolled her eyes. "I know _that_."

"She saw our texts," Vic clarified, under his breath.

Mac's eyes widened. "Ah."

"It was a little shocking," Li Ann admitted. "But I'm over it. What the two of you get up to is none of my business."

Something about her tone gave Vic pause. Not that he'd been expecting her to give their dirty texts a resounding seal of approval, but back in New Zealand it had seemed like her main concern was that Vic might break Mac's heart. Now that they had Mac in front of them, she was acting oddly cool towards him. Vic didn't quite get it.

"Hey," Mac said. "I have to go stake out a Ferrari dealership with Jackie right now, but I'd really like to see you both. How about you come over to my place after work? I can order from Chang's."

"I'm exhausted," Li Ann said. "Once we've checked in with the Director, I'm going to go home and sleep in my own bed for about eighteen hours."

"Sleep for six hours," Mac suggested, "come to my place, eat, and then you can sleep some more. You'll need to eat, right?"

Vic caught Li Ann's eye. She looked reluctant, but she didn't refuse the invitation outright.

He hadn't really considered that Li Ann might still be mad at Mac, but it seemed like she was. At least, that would explain her chilly attitude now—and the fact that she'd never answered Mac's texts.

The two of them needed to hash this out sooner rather than later, Vic decided.

And besides, he wanted to see Mac too.

"We'll be there," he said firmly, taking Li Ann's hand and giving it a quiet squeeze.

* * *

When Li Ann dropped him off at his place, Vic collapsed fully clothed on his bed and slept like the dead for six hours, only waking to the knock at his door.

Li Ann was standing politely in the hallway, despite the fact that she still had a key to his place. She looked fresh and put-together; she'd clearly showered and changed her clothes.

Unlike Vic.

"Uh," he said blearily. "Maybe I should freshen up. Shower, shave."

She glanced at her watch. "Sure," she said. "There's time."

In the shower he finally started to feel awake. And then he started to think about the evening ahead of him, and he started to feel _really_ awake.

Here they were, the three of them, finally about to have a chance to talk things out. The nightmarish Bradley Black case was over and done with, Mac was healthy again, they were all back in the same country—there was nothing left to stop them from having an honest, open discussion and figuring out where they all stood with each other.

And Vic was feeling pretty excited about that, to be honest.

Things were going great with Li Ann. New Zealand had had that honeymoon-like quality, in between the arms dealers and the spy versus spy shenanigans. They'd attained a level of comfort with each other that they'd never had before. He still felt bad about having hidden the whole sexy texting thing from her, but he didn't get the sense that she was holding it against him.

And ... things were going great with Mac, too. At least, they had been while Vic was in New Zealand. Vic was nervous but also eager to find out how it would feel now to be in the same room as Mac.

Vic was struck by a memory—the night of Li Ann's last blind date, when she'd come back to Vic's place afterwards and told Mac and Vic that she still loved them both. She'd kissed them both, and then Mac had kissed Vic. If Vic hadn't panicked, who knows what might have happened that night.

Vic realized that without quite thinking about it he'd taken his dick in his hand and started to stroke himself. Remembering Li Ann sitting on his lap, Mac pressed against his side, the two of them kissing inches from his face.

It could happen again tonight. If it did, things would go very differently. Vic wouldn't freak out when Mac kissed him. In fact, he was willing to take the initiative this time. _He_ would kiss Mac. He'd nibble those plush lips, and sneak a hand under Mac's shirt and feel his smooth abs, his hairy pecs. Li Ann, meanwhile, would pull her shirt off, and they'd both touch her beautiful breasts, watching her nipples contract in the chill air. She'd smile and steal Vic away from Mac for a kiss of her own, and reach down to take his cock in hand...

Enough. Vic leaned head-first against the shower wall so he wouldn't fall over as he climaxed.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were knocking at Mac's door.

Mac opened up with an eager-puppy grin. He was still wearing a suit, complete with jacket—but Vic was long past feeling under-dressed next to him. They each had their own style, that was all. Mac wore designer suits; Vic wore cotton shirts and blue jeans.

"You came together," was the first thing Mac said.

"Li Ann had to drive me," Vic pointed out, holding up his bandaged wrist. It wasn't a bad sprain but it was enough to interfere with working the gear shift.

Mac nodded, appearing to relax a bit. "Right," he said.

It occurred to Vic that Mac might be a little nervous about where he stood at the moment. After all, Vic and Li Ann had just had a whole lot of time alone.

Vic tried to think of what he could say or do to reassure him.

And, well, there was really only one thing that leapt to mind.

He stepped forward and grabbed Mac by the shoulders and kissed him.

Mac was clearly startled; he nearly jumped when Vic touched him. A moment later, though, he was reassuringly into it. At least, his parted lips and the feeling of his tongue exploring Vic's teeth seemed to indicate that Vic had not mis-read this situation.

Vic's heart was pounding like crazy and he really didn't want to let go, but actually the kiss was just supposed to be a 'hello.' So he stood back, breathing deeply. 

Mac gave him a wide-eyed look up and down. "Vic?" he said, as though concerned that he was in the presence of a body-snatcher.

"Uh, hi," Vic said belatedly. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Mac said. He still didn't seem to know quite what to make of Vic's greeting.

Funny, after all those texts, Vic would've expected Mac to look less like a deer in the headlights at this point.

Maybe he'd thought Vic was just playing with him?

Mac, meanwhile, had turned to Li Ann. "And you," he said, sounding strangely tentative about it. "It's good to see you too."

Li Ann nodded tightly. She didn't make a move towards Mac. "I'm glad you're okay," she said. "I was worried."

He stepped towards her. "I'm sorry," he said. "It wasn't as bad as it looked, you know. I mean—you saw the worst part. A few hours later I was basically fine." He caught one of her hands, and held it, gently stroking her fingers. "Li Ann, I missed you so much. I wish you'd answered my texts."

She gave a little shudder. "I couldn't. I'm sorry. But I had to tell you this in person, and I couldn't talk to you until we'd settled this."

"This?" Mac repeated, sounding worried. "What 'this'?"

Vic, meanwhile, felt an unhappy clenching in his belly as he started to guess where Li Ann was headed.

"I can't be with you," she said. "I mean ... _with_. I'm sorry. After everything that's happened—I can't deal with it, Mac. I was wrong to try to re-open that part of our past. I hope you can forgive me."

Mac dropped Li Ann's hand like it was scalding him. He backed away from her, hugging his arms tightly around his chest. "Sure," he said, in a voice that made Vic think of shattered glass. "Not like I didn't see it coming. I mean, maybe for one or two crazy minutes I believed you'd actually want to be with me again. But I know you'd never choose me over him."

" _Choose_?" Vic interjected, managing to break out of his dumbfounded silence. "Didn't we agree a while ago that there didn't have to be any choosing?"

"I'm not choosing Vic," Li Ann said. "This has nothing to do with Vic. It's just me, Mac. I'm not strong enough to be with you."

"It's not you, it's me?" Mac paraphrased angrily. "Great, that's not a lame cliché."

Vic looked at his partners while his thoughts skidded around trying to make sense of what was going on. They were unconsciously mirroring each others' posture, each of them with arms tightly crossed, back straight, chin held high. _Like two storm-tossed rocky islands,_ the thought flitted across Vic's mind.

Maybe Vic should have seen this coming from the way Li Ann had avoided the subject of Mac all week. But he'd thought she was just worried about him. He _knew_ she'd been worried about him. So where was this sudden rejection coming from?

Vic couldn't quite figure it out, but there was something wrong with this picture.

"Li Ann, that doesn't make sense," he said. "You're one of the strongest people I know. And, okay, it's weird that I'm the one saying this, but I _know_ you love Mac. So what's this about really?"

Li Ann swung her head around to glare in Vic's direction, and there were tears glittering in her eyes. " _Yes_ I love him," she said. "And he _died_."

Oh.

"Uh, no I didn't," Mac said. "Standing right here."

"You did," Li Ann said, turning back to him. "For me, you did. I walked around in a daze for months. Cried myself to sleep every night. I didn't know how to _be_ in the world without you. And you know, people told me it would get better, but it didn't—it just finally got _numb_."

"But I wasn't dead," Mac insisted. "I came back. It's okay now."

She shook her head. "I can't go through that again. I realized that the night you got sick. Waiting for the ambulance, watching you suffocating—I just _can't_."

Vic stepped in and touched her arm, lightly. "Li Ann," he said as gently as he could, "I know you were scared. But you can't just shut yourself off from people because you're afraid of losing them. That's no way to live. I mean, what about me? Are you going to cut me off too?"

"Yeah, what _about_ Vic?" Mac snapped. "Are you saying you _don't_ love him, and that's why you can be with him? Or is that whole thing about loving me too much just another bullshit justification?"

"Vic is different," Li Ann snapped back. "He doesn't have a death wish!"

"What?!" Mac said. "Neither do I! Jesus, I know I screwed up, I just really didn't think the breathing exercises were that important. I mean, I was breathing anyway!"

Li Ann pressed a hand to her mouth. Her tears hadn't spilled over yet, but she was clearly on the edge. Vic, standing next to her with a hand on her shoulder, didn't really know what to do. This was between Li Ann and Mac, really. Part of Vic wished he could just disappear.

Mostly, though, he wished he could figure out what to say to _fix_ this. He could see where Li Ann was coming from, but it made no sense for her to break up with Mac. That wouldn't make her stop loving him; it wouldn't protect her from pain. It would only deny the two of them the strength and support they could draw from each other.

But Vic didn't know how to say that.

"It's not just one thing," Li Ann said. Her voice was pitched low, the way it got when she was close to losing control. "It's your whole life, Mac. You're constantly taking chances. Leaping into situations without a plan for getting out. Getting kidnapped, getting poisoned, getting beat up—"

"That's our _job_ ," Mac interrupted. "We're secret agents. It's dangerous. Vic's been shot, the Director's been shot, we've all been drugged—"

"You tried to kill yourself!" Li Ann shouted. "So how do you expect to convince me you value your own life?" The tears were running down her cheeks now, and she was shaking. Instinctively, Vic put an arm around her shoulders, but she didn't relax into his embrace. She was staring angrily at Mac.

Mac froze, just for a moment. And then he smiled. Laughed. Relaxed visibly. " _That's_ what you're upset about?" he said. "Li Ann, that was just a story I made up. I was trying to attract the wrong kind of attention, remember? The Director told me to try to look unstable."

She'd also remarked that it wouldn't be too much of a stretch, Vic recalled. "Chain link fence," he said, testing his theory.

"What?" Mac looked blank.

 _Shit._ Vic had been just about ready to believe Mac, standing there with his casual pose and his laughing eyes. "How you got that scar," he reminded him. "Climbing over a chain link fence."

"Right," Mac said, and his left thumb brushed the inside of his right wrist. "When I was a kid." He was still smiling but there was something false about it, something desperate.

"Don't lie to me," Li Ann said softly. Vic could feel her tension through her shoulders. "Lie to everyone else, Mac, but not to me."

Mac looked at her for a long frozen moment, and then the jester-smile dropped away. All that was left was a raw, scared emptiness. "I was in prison," he said.

"We've all been to prison," Li Ann pointed out. Her voice sounded cold, but from the trembling of her shoulders Vic knew she was anything but unaffected.

"Yeah, well, I was in for longer," Mac retorted. And he walked away, around the corner into the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Vic asked Li Ann quickly, quietly.

She shook her head, and gave a strangled little laugh. "I know, it's ironic. I told _you_ not to hurt him." She shrugged her shoulders to dislodge Vic's arm. "I should go."

"No." Vic glanced towards the kitchen. From this angle he couldn't see Mac, but he'd heard a cupboard opening. "Seriously, Li Ann, just—stay. Right here. Please?" He didn't wait for a response, because as worried as he was about her right now, he was more worried about Mac.

Mac had already opened a bottle from his re-stocked liquor supply, and was in the process of draining a glass of amber liquid. He put the glass down empty and glared at Vic. "You're still here?" he said.

"Yeah. Nowhere better to be." Vic eyed the bottle of scotch. "Are you still on painkillers?"

"Worried I'm gonna pull a Jimi Hendrix? Well, fuck you." Mac went to refill his glass, but Vic snatched it away.

"Fuck me?" Vic raised the empty glass in an imaginary toast, keeping it out of Mac's reach. "Maybe later if you're lucky. For now, just tell me what's in your bloodstream."

The snark seemed to catch Mac's attention, at least. "Oh haha, let's joke about fucking. Is that what it was? A big joke? 'Cause right now I'm feeling a lot like a punch line." He punctuated the statement by taking a long drink of scotch directly from the bottle.

Just then, Vic heard the door of Mac's apartment open and shut.

"Li Ann," Vic breathed. "Shit." He looked at Mac. "Don't move. I'll be right back." He shoved his way past Mac, snatching the scotch bottle out of his hand on the way by.

Vic caught up to Li Ann at the elevator. "No," he said. "That's not how we're doing this."

Li Ann turned to him with a confused look. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "What?" she said.

"You're not dumping Mac and leaving me behind to pick up the pieces."

She frowned. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"No, but you knew I would. Even if I hadn't told you in New Zealand that I loved him." The last two words came out softer than the rest. It was still hard to use them in a casual sentence.

Li Ann's eyes widened. "Who do you think I am, the Director? I didn't plan any of this. I didn't even know what I was going to say until I got here. And then I said too much."

The elevator arrived with a ding. The doors opened.

Li Ann eyed the empty space.

"Don't go," Vic pleaded. He didn't touch her, though. He was holding the scotch bottle with his uninjured hand. "We'll go back to Mac's apartment, and we'll talk this out. All three of us."

"I think I'm done talking," Li Ann said softly. "And Mac—he's back there proving my point, isn't he?"

The elevator doors slid shut again.

"Mac has flaws," Vic said, carefully. "We all do, right?"

"His recklessness isn't just a flaw, it's a way of life," she said.

"Okay," Vic conceded. "But we temper that. You and me. He's better when he's with us." He looked at her. "And you. You shut yourself away so that you won't get hurt. I understand why you'd do that." He _really_ understood, now that he knew she'd been sold into prostitution when she was twelve. Fuck. But he knew enough not to mention that. "It feels safer that way, but you end up lonely and detached. And Mac's the only one who really knows how to get past that, because he knows you better than anyone alive." He considered for a moment. "That's another reason you keep pulling away from him, isn't it?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "Shit," she said finally. "You're probably right."

Vic tucked the bottle under his right arm so he could extend his left hand to her. "Ready to go back to Mac's apartment?" he said.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Not really," she said. "But having you there will help."

Vic felt a little nervous at the responsibility implied there, but he tried not to show it. "Okay, let's go before he does anything stupid," he said. "I told him not to move and I took his bottle, but, uh, I told _you_ not to move, and he has other bottles."


	18. Break Down the Door

When they got back to Mac's apartment, the door was locked and dance music was blasting inside.

There was no response when they knocked.

"I don't think he can hear us," Vic said.

"I don't think he wants us to come back," Li Ann said, backing away from the door.

Vic frowned. "You can pick the lock, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously. But he probably set the security latch inside, too."

Vic was starting to get a wiggly, nervous feeling in his belly. He eyed the door. "If he did, I can kick it in," he said.

Li Ann gave him a weird look. "Or we could skip the property damage and call him in the morning."

"Uh," Vic said. "It's just ... we did kind of just remind him of his past suicide attempt. And then break up with him. And leave him alone, drinking. With at least three guns in the apartment."

Her eyes widened. "Do you really think...?" She bit her lip. "No, Vic. No. He wouldn't. Not like that."

Vic flushed. "I was a police officer," he reminded her. "I have to think along those lines."

"Right." She pulled her lock picks out of her coat pocket.

The security latch was set, it turned out. Li Ann didn't bother to move aside for Vic; she kicked it in herself.

Despite the eardrum-blasting music, Mac must've heard his door being kicked in; by the time they made it around the corner to his living room, he was on his feet with a gun in his hands.

Vic and Li Ann both threw their hands in the air. "It's just us!" Li Ann shouted.

Vic went straight for the stereo, and turned it off.

"Un-fucking-believable," Mac groaned. He dropped his gun down on his coffee table next to his holster, and he dropped himself onto his couch with a loose-limbed flop. "What _now_?"

Vic surveyed the room. Mac's suit jacket was flung over the back of the couch, and his shirt was undone three buttons down. Both of his regular guns were on the coffee table, one of them still in the holster—he must've had them off when he heard the door caving in.

Also on the table was an open bottle of peach schnapps.

"Peach schnapps?" Vic said, picking it up. "Really?"

Mac glared at him. "You left with my whiskey."

"Yeah, well, now I'm leaving with your peach schnapps," he said, heading for the kitchen.

He closed the liquor bottles and put them back in the cupboard. He thought about pouring them down the drain, actually, but figured it wouldn't accomplish much more than pissing Mac off—there was always more where those came from.

Back in the living room, Mac was still sprawled on the couch, Li Ann was still standing in the doorway, and they were both eyeing each other uncomfortably.

"You didn't have to do that," Mac said when Vic came back. "I finished the codeine five days ago."

"Well that's great," Vic said. It was; that was actually a big relief. "But that's not the only reason I wanted you to stop drinking." He eyed the guns for a moment, considering. Then he decided, better safe than sorry; he snatched them up from the table and headed off to the bedroom with them.

"What the _hell_?" Mac called from the couch, but he didn't get up.

Vic tucked the guns safely into Mac's bedside table and returned to the living room. This time he sat down next to Mac. "We weren't done talking," he said. "It works better when you're conscious."

Mac eyed Vic and Li Ann. "I really thought we _were_ done," he said.

Li Ann stepped all the way into the room, finally. "Vic thinks we're good for each other," she said.

Her intonation was so much like that of a scolded and penitent child that Vic wasn't sure whether to laugh or apologise.

Mac looked at her blearily. "Not really seeing it, right now," he said.

Li Ann gave a shaky little laugh. "I make you think things through. You make me feel things."

"And you broke my door down." Mac waved a hand in the direction of the entrance. "To tell me that."

"Vic thought if we left you in here alone you might eat your gun."

Now Vic felt the pressure of both of them looking at him. "I just thought you might be in a bad place, man," he said.

Not that he was entirely convinced he'd been wrong, either. But at least the situation was under control for now.

Mac turned to Li Ann. "Vic's a worrywart," he said, lightly.

She returned his faint grin. "Yeah, I know," she said.

"It's one of his more loveable qualities, really," Mac added.

Wearing a wry smile, Li Ann came over to the couch and perched on the end next to Mac. "I like his cooking," she said, reaching over Mac to ruffle Vic's hair.

"Cooking, meh," Mac said, making a so-so gesture with one floppy hand. "He drives a mean motorcycle, though."

"You know, he's really good at packing," Li Ann said. "He has this way of rolling up the shirts so they don't wrinkle."

"Are you guys making fun of me?" Vic asked.

"Yes, but affectionately," Li Ann answered.

"He's awfully insecure for a guy with such a great ass," Mac added. Then he looked uncertain. "Wait, am I allowed to compliment Vic's ass? Am I dating Vic? I really never had a chance to figure out where we were with that."

"Um, wow," Vic said. "Dating. Um." He felt himself blushing, unsure what to say. He'd been so focused on trying to fix Li Ann and Mac's relationship, he'd temporarily forgotten that this thing between himself and Mac was another big question mark.

"Wrong word?" Mac suggested. "Normally with a guy I'd just say 'fucking,' but since we haven't yet..."

"No, let's go with 'dating,'" Vic said quickly.

"So we are, then." A tentative smile blossomed on Mac's face. "Really?"

"Yeah," Vic said, reaching for Mac's hand. His heart was racing. He glanced over at Li Ann. "This is ... wow."

In Vic's entire life up to this point, he didn't think there had ever been a moment more complicated than this one.

Not _bad_ complicated. Just really ... complex.

Vic wanted to kiss Mac. He also wanted to sit with him and talk this thing through. What was Mac expecting to happen now? What would 'dating' mean for the two of them?

But—never mind the fact that Vic had never done anything like this with a man before; Vic had never had a conversation like that with a _third party_ present. The idea of it seemed intimidatingly weird. And it wasn't like Li Ann was a neutral observer. She was deeply implicated—being Vic's lover, and also, formerly, Mac's.

Formerly? Well, that was a big question here. A question which—Vic realized—Mac had evaded by putting the focus on Vic. And Li Ann had apparently been more than happy to go along with that.

Which meant that it was up to Vic to make sure the two of them dealt with their feelings for each other before this night was over.

But he really wanted to kiss Mac.

Okay. One thing at a time. He met Mac's eyes. Mac's smile was already faltering; Vic had hesitated too long.

"It's all right if you don't—" Mac started.

Vic cut him off with a kiss. He didn't need to know the end of that thought.

"Mmph," Mac finished.

It was a huge rush, kissing Mac. Vic closed his eyes and twined his fingers through Mac's, letting himself focus on the feeling of Mac's lips on his.

This was their first _real_ kiss, Vic decided. The first of their kisses to be consensual, leisurely, and mutually sober.

Well, okay, semi-mutually sober. Mac tasted like peach schnapps. He certainly kissed like a man in full possession of his faculties, though. Not that Vic had been kissed by a lot of men (not a single one, other than Mac), but he assumed that it couldn't get much better than this.

Kissing Mac was different from kissing Li Ann—categorically different from kissing any woman. Mac was rougher around the edges. Literally—his stubble prickled against the edges of Vic's lips, not quite uncomfortable, heightening the sensation of softness in between. 

Even though they weren't doing anything but kissing, Vic was intensely conscious of Mac's strength, the size of his body. Vic had never had a lover before who wasn't significantly smaller than himself. Even Li Ann was slender like a reed. Mac felt solid. Powerful. Intimidating, actually, but in a way that excited Vic and pushed him to kiss Mac even more deeply, fiercely, while tight little moans escaped from his throat.

It was Mac who pulled away first. It happened abruptly enough that Vic's first thought was that something had gone wrong. Vic had broken some rule, stepped over some line. They should have started with the talking, _then_ moved on to the kissing. "Sorry," he said. "I, uh—"

Mac waved a hand in a clear _Shut up, Vic_ kind of way, and then, turning away from both Vic and Li Ann, doubled over and let out a series of nasty, rattling coughs.

Vic felt his gut tighten with concern, listening. He met Li Ann's eyes over Mac's hunched back. She looked worried too.

"Jesus, Mac," Vic said when it was over. "I thought you said you were okay now."

"I am," Mac insisted, un-ironically, sitting up straight again and leaning back against the couch. "I mean, still getting over pneumonia, right? This is nothing. A week ago I sounded like a 30-year, pack-a-day smoker. Remember Harvey Stone? Kind of like that. Be glad you missed _that_ show."

Vic frowned. "About that," he said. "I'm sorry we had to run off and leave you on your own."

Mac gave him a funny look. "The Director wiggles her fingers, the puppets dance," he said. "I know the drill. Anyway, weren't you guys saving the world or something?"

"Or something," Li Ann said. She touched Mac's arm lightly with her fingertips. "Mac, are you really okay?"

As she asked the question, Vic had the strangest feeling—insight coming to him in what felt like an actual, literal flash. Like for a split second he could read both Li Ann's and Mac's minds.

He knew that Mac thought he had to downplay his illness to put Li Ann at ease. And he knew that Li Ann needed Mac to be honest, to convince her that he took the danger he'd been in seriously and that he wasn't about to carelessly put himself at risk again.

"Hey," Vic said quickly, before Mac could speak. He clapped a hand on Mac's shoulder. "Don't sugar-coat it, man. We can tell you're not at 100% yet. And we're a little gun-shy after the way we failed to pick up on your downward spiral _last_ time."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "You're not developing some kind of guilt complex over that, are you?" 

"Not making any promises," Vic said, because actually that did strike a nerve. "Answer the damn question."

Mac's gaze darted to Li Ann. "Okay, look. The doctor said the cough will probably take another week to clear up. But I'm checking in at Medical every day, and she's happy with my progress. I've got three days of antibiotics left. The ribs still hurt, but I'm _doing_ the damn breathing exercises this time."

Vic gave Mac a careful, assessing look. He'd lost some weight, Vic decided. Not a lot—maybe ten, fifteen pounds. Enough to change the shape of his face slightly, make it sharper. His skin tone was a bit off, too. Vic and Li Ann had come back from New Zealand with summer tans, which made it a little hard to judge, but Mac looked pale. There were faint shadows under his eyes.

Vic realized he was doing the worrywart thing again. It was hard not to, though, when he remembered the three days of not knowing whether Mac had pulled through or not.

"You've been back at work for what, a week now?" Vic said. "How's that going?"

Mac shrugged. "I'm still on half days. I get tired. The Director's got me doing surveillance, mostly."

"Outside?" Vic asked, sharply. "Fucking hell, Mac, it's freezing out there, she can't possibly expect you to—"

"Video," Mac interrupted. "Fed into the Agency. Calm down, Vic."

"What about the Ferrari dealership?" Vic said. "You were staking it out with Jackie today, you told us this morning."

"We were out there for an hour, tops," Mac said. "We think they're smuggling weapons into the country along with the spare parts. We needed to get a few plate numbers."

"I'm talking to the Director in the morning," Vic decided. "There's no way you should be pulling shifts like that yet."

Mac looked sceptical. "You're going to try telling the Director what to do?"

"Does she even realize you're not completely healthy yet?" Vic asked. "Have you told her how tired you get?"

"I'm seeing an Agency doctor," Mac reminded him. "I assume she reports to the Director. Minutely. And with no regard for quaint notions of confidentiality or bodily autonomy."

"Still," Vic said, stubbornly. "I'm going to talk to the Director."

"Overreact much?" Mac muttered in the general direction of the couch cushions.

He then somewhat undercut his point with another coughing fit.

When Mac caught his breath, Vic laid his hand on Mac's forehead.

"Seriously?" Mac said, rolling his eyes. "I don't have a fever."

"Just checking." Vic met Mac's gaze from a few inches away. "And/or taking advantage of an excuse to touch you. You be the judge."

Mac grinned at that, as Vic had figured he would. He pulled Vic's hand down and kissed it. "You don't need an excuse," he said. "Go ahead and touch me whenever you want. Preferably in sexy places."

Li Ann cleared her throat.

Mac glanced back over at her, looking a bit worried now. "Was that over the line?" he asked. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She gave her head a quick shake. "Actually I'm thrilled to see the two of you getting along so well," she said. "It just takes some getting used to."

Mac nodded. "I get that. And seriously, if you'd rather we didn't do anything in front of you, just say the word. It might be easier that way, like with Michael."

"No," she said. "There's no reason you two should hide your feelings for each other around me. Actually ... to be honest, I enjoyed watching you kiss."

Vic only barely managed to keep his composure and avoid a shocked fit of laughter. Li Ann looked nervous, and somewhere between sheepish and defiant.

Mac, on the other hand, looked delighted.

" _Really_?" he said. "Like, it made you hot?"

One corner of her mouth twitched upwards, and she gave a little nod.

"We could do it again," Mac suggested, turning back to Vic.

They didn't, though, because just at that moment a young Asian man carrying a large and fragrant paper bag stepped into the room.

"Excuse me?" he said. "Delivery. Uh, your door was standing open."


	19. Falling Into Place

By the time they'd paid the delivery guy, found a way to keep the broken door closed, and laid out all the food, the moment was lost.

This was probably for the best, Vic realized. For a moment there, it had seemed like things might actually be moving in the direction of his shower-time fantasy.

Which had been exciting.

But this was real life, not a masturbation fantasy, and there was still a lot they needed to talk about.

Mac got plates from the kitchen, and when he set them on the table he put a fork next to Vic's, without comment.

Vic, also without comment, snatched a pair of disposable chopsticks from the delivery bag. He figured he could at least give it a try.

Li Ann gave them both what looked like an approving glance.

So, okay, they could be mature and eat together without making it a whole big thing. It was an improvement on past performance. Vic didn't even make his usual complaints about the inclusion of eel in the order, though he stopped short of putting any on his plate. Mac had also ordered fried rice and a couple of nice-smelling dishes with chicken and shrimp, so there was plenty for Vic to eat.

Over dinner, they talked about New Zealand.

It seemed like a safe topic at first, aside from the whole breaching-national-security thing. Li Ann and Vic took turns explaining how the case had gone down, and Mac kept interrupting them with sheep jokes.

So they were all laughing, and relaxed, and enjoying dinner.

They told him about their two day quasi-vacation in Wellington, too. Li Ann described in vivid detail her favourite pieces of art from the Museum of New Zealand; Vic was impressed by her powers of recall.

It did occur to Vic, a little uneasily, that just as those two days had felt sort of like a honeymoon when they were happening, they probably sounded sort of like one to Mac, now. Even if Vic and Li Ann did gloss over the afternoon and subsequent morning spent entirely in their hotel room.

So Vic wasn't entirely surprised when Mac paused with the last piece of eel half-way to his mouth and said, much too casually, "I guess you two are really back together, then. Is the engagement back on?"

"No," Li Ann said, darting a look at Vic. "There's no question of marriage."

"We need to talk about this," Vic said, putting down his fork.

"About marriage?" Li Ann asked, in a tone that bordered on dangerous.

"No," Vic assured her quickly. "About you and me. And me and Mac. And _you_ and Mac. We really, really need to have this conversation."

Li Ann nodded, though she looked uncomfortable. "You're right," she said. "That's why I came back."

"Good thing you did," Mac said. "I would've had way too much food otherwise."

Vic resisted the urge to tell Mac to be serious; it was pretty obvious Mac was joking to cover up his own unease. Part one of this conversation hadn't gone very well for Mac.

"First of all, we owe Mac an honest explanation of what's happened between the two of us," Vic said to Li Ann.

"Why don't I get us some drinks," Mac said quickly, standing up.

"Do you have any beer?" Li Ann asked.

"Sure," Mac said, heading for the kitchen.

Vic, who'd been about to protest that they should really have this conversation sober, decided to let it go. At least they weren't dipping into the hard liquor again.

Mac brought back three bottles of Tsingtao, already open, and handed them around. "Okay," he said, taking his seat. "You were going to tell me the beautiful story of how you got back together." He took a long drink.

Vic waited for a moment to see if Li Ann would jump in, but she just looked at him. "Well, you basically already know," he said finally. "There was that one night, just before the Bradley Black case. Li Ann went out on a blind date, and it was a total disaster, and afterwards she came back and told us—" He stopped, awkwardly. They'd all been there. He didn't feel right putting the words in Li Ann's mouth.

"I said that I'd never stopped loving either one of you," Li Ann finished for herself. She gave Mac a long, thoughtful look, and then sipped her beer.

Vic realized it was up to him to pick up the thread of the story. "Okay. So that happened. And then there was the Bradley Black case, that whole mess. Li Ann and I had a lot of time alone in the listening van."

"I noticed," Mac said, with a trace of bitterness.

"A lot of time to _talk_ ," Vic emphasized. "And yes, we did get back together, but only after I'd agreed that Li Ann didn't have to choose between me and you. Because she never could, you know. She'd never choose me over you."

"Except for how tonight she walked in here and did exactly that," Mac pointed out.

"No," Li Ann said. "I told you, that wasn't about Vic."

"So, right, even though Vic's okay with an open relationship, you _still_ don't want to be with me. That really makes me feel better. I can't even tell you how glad I am we're having this conversation." Mac took a drink.

Li Ann took a shaky breath. "Mac, I _do_ want to be with you. It's just that the idea of getting back together with you terrifies me. I feel _raw_ with you. I can't keep you out, like I would ... anyone else." Her eyes flicked over to Vic, almost guiltily, and then she said something quietly in Chinese.

Mac put down his bottle and reached across the table for her hand. He squeezed it gently, and said something in reply.

Vic sipped carefully at his beer, trying to follow the exchange from their body language alone. He didn't like feeling excluded, but he figured he had to give them this one. After all, he was the one who'd dragged Li Ann back here by insisting that she shared something special with Mac.

They were leaning towards each other, talking quietly. It was impossible for Vic to guess at the content. He couldn't even tell if one of them was asking questions; the speech patterns were too different from English. But he could see that Li Ann's eyes had become moist, and that Mac's shoulders had relaxed out of their angry, defensive hunch. So he figured that the two of them were connecting, somehow.

"I already lost you once," Li Ann said then, in English. Both she and Mac glanced over at Vic, just a quick acknowledgement that they'd brought him back into the conversation. "You have to understand how profoundly that affected me, Mac. The idea of it happening again..."

"I _don't_ have a death wish," Mac insisted.

"You take stupid chances," she said. "You act without thinking about the consequences. You keep finding new ways to nearly get yourself killed."

Mac let go over her hand and visibly retreated back into himself. "So, here we are again," he said. "The bit where you explain why you can't actually stand to be with me."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Mac said sadly.

"No," Li Ann said, "I mean I'm sorry I said that earlier. I was trying to run away from my own feelings. It was stupid. I can't protect myself from pain by shutting you out. I love you." Her voice cracked on the final declaration, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, but she didn't quite burst into tears.

Mac looked shaken. Vic realized that this conversation must be one hell of an emotional roller-coaster for him. Li Ann was picking her way carefully towards her conclusion through the mine-field of her own emotions, but Mac didn't know where she was headed.

Neither did Vic, really. He wondered if Li Ann did herself.

"Are you saying," Mac asked in a carefully controlled tone, "that we _can_ get back together?"

Li Ann didn't answer right away. She brushed the heel of her hand across her eyes, swiping away the tears that had been building there, and then took a sip of beer. "I think," she said finally, "that if we'd managed to get away from the Tangs together, it wouldn't have worked out between us."

"You can't know that," Mac said.

She shrugged. "The road not travelled. Everything would have been different, sure. But you still would've been you, and I still would've been me. And you know how we end up clashing against each other. Remember when we had to pretend to be married?"

"That was an _op_ ," Mac pointed out. "We were also pretending to be terrorists. Come on, Li Ann. We were happy together in Hong Kong, right?"

"Yes," she said. "We were. It was different there, because of Michael."

At the mention of Michael, Vic felt goose-bumps. Why the hell would Li Ann bring him up?

"So," Mac said, "you're saying that we _can't_ get back together?"

She shook her head. "No," she said, hesitantly. "I'm saying it can be different here too. Because of Vic."

"Uh, timeout," Vic said, alarmed. "In what way do I remind you of Michael, exactly?"

"That's not what I meant," Li Ann said. "I'm trying to say ... Michael dominated both of us and to a certain extent united us, in the sense that we had to support each other to survive our relationship with him." She looked at Vic. "You solve a different problem."

"I do?" he said.

"He does?" Mac echoed.

"Ever since we got here tonight, Vic's been doing everything he can to keep you safe," Li Ann said. "He took the liquor away, he checked that you weren't mixing alcohol and meds, he promised to go scold the _Director_ of all people about overtaxing you at work while you're still convalescing." She hesitated, and then added, "He insisted we break in here after you locked us out, because he was afraid you might hurt yourself."

"I wouldn't have," Mac said, frowning.

"I know," Li Ann said. "The point is, Vic is very protective. You're safer with him around." She took a shaky breath. "The point is," she went on, "I think I can be with you, as long as you're with Vic."

Mac looked temporarily stunned, which was about how Vic felt too.

He'd really had _no_ idea she was leading up to _that_.

And yet, after the first moment of shock, what Vic felt was the rightness of it. A sense of everything falling into place.

He'd convinced himself a while ago, after all, that the long-term success of his own relationship with Li Ann depended on her dating Mac as well. So there was symmetry.

Somehow, the three of them were better together than any pair of them would be alone.

Mac was smiling now, although he also looked like he might actually start crying at any moment. "Li Ann," he said, his voice catching. "I missed you so much."

"Me too," she said, standing and moving around the table. He stood up to meet her, and they kissed.

The kiss went on for a quite a while, and showed no signs of stopping. Li Ann and Mac were both making desperate little noises, their hands travelling all over each other. They looked like they were barely restraining themselves from tearing each other's clothes off.

Vic felt increasingly warm, watching them. His heart was swelling with an unaccustomed sort of happiness—watching the two people he loved taking pleasure in each other.

He was also feeling increasingly extraneous. "Uh, I'll show myself out," he said, standing up.

"Wait!" Mac said, pulling back from Li Ann just enough so that he could talk. "I'd like him to stay," he said to her. "Is that okay?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned to Vic. "Will you stay? Please?"

"Uh..." Vic darted an uncertain look towards the bedroom, and then back to his partners. "I thought you two would want to, um, celebrate your reunion now."

"Well, apparently there's no reunion without you," Mac said.

"I didn't mean you had to be with him _every moment_ ," Li Ann said, but she looked amused more than anything.

Mac looked at her. He seemed to be making puppy eyes, actually. "Could we try it this way?" he more-or-less begged.

Li Ann and Vic met each others' eyes. Li Ann bit her lip, fighting back a nervous-looking smile. "Want to come to the bedroom with us?" she said to Vic.

Vic swallowed, abruptly remembering his earlier fantasy.

Not so misguided after all, apparently.

"Yes," he managed to say.


	20. Coupling, For Three

Vic had not felt quite this nervous and self-conscious around a sexual encounter since the night he lost his virginity in Susan MacDonald's parents' basement.

Sex was a partner dance. It was all about losing yourself in that one other person, letting all of your attention rest on them. _Coupling_.

The idea of a threesome was exotic and sexy, but he wasn't quite sure how to make it work in practice. As soon as Vic had accepted the invitation in principle, Mac and Li Ann had moved their focus back to each other. They'd moved to the bedroom together, tugging at each others' clothes, leaving Vic to trail behind.

In the bedroom, Vic was momentarily distracted by a change in the furniture—Mac's bed was weirdly low. After a second Vic realized that the frame and box spring must have been removed, and that the mattress was sitting directly on the floor.

Mac pulled his attention away from Li Ann for long enough to notice where Vic was looking. "Dobrinsky's solution to my whole falling-out-of-bed problem," he said, off-handedly. "Vic, you still have all your clothes on. Let me help you with that."

Mac was already shirtless, and Li Ann was down to her bra and panties. But Vic was still uncertain of his role here; did Mac and Li Ann want him to watch? To participate? He hadn't so much as undone a button.

Mac came over to Vic and started undoing his flannel shirt. He gave Vic a quick peck on the lips, and then leaned in further to murmur next to Vic's ear, "This is all new for you, isn't it?"

Vic realized he'd gone kind of rigid. He willed himself to relax. "Well, I've had sex before," he said.

"Never with a guy, though?" Mac asked. "And never with more than one person?"

Vic replied with a quick shake of his head. No point in trying to pretend to be more experienced than he was.

"If anything makes you uncomfortable," Mac whispered, his breath hot on the skin under Vic's ear, "Just say so, and I'll stop. Okay?"

Vic nodded, in the grip of a hot, nervous swirl of emotions. "Is any of this new to you?" he asked back.

Mac gave him a smugly amused look and didn't bother to answer. Instead, he tugged Vic's shirt off. "Nice wife-beater," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's an undershirt," Vic said, defensively. "It's _winter_. I like to be _warm_."

"Well, mission accomplished," Mac said, stepping back and giving Vic a look up and down. "Because you are _hot_ like that."

Vic stifled a surprised snort of laughter.

"Isn't he?" Mac appealed back to Li Ann.

She'd settled on the bed, watching them with a tolerantly amused expression. "Yes, he is," she agreed. "Mac, come here."

Mac, grinning, pressed his hands together in front of his breastbone and sketched a little bow towards Vic. "Excuse me," he said. "My lady beckons."

Li Ann said something in Chinese, a smile playing across her lips, and she backed up on the bed to make room for Mac. Mac replied in the same language, and tugged her panties down. He was still wearing his own pants, though Li Ann had earlier undone the belt.

"Guys?" Vic said. "Could we stick with English, please?"

"Sorry," Li Ann said.

"Habit," Mac added. "Certain things sound sexier in Cantonese. We'll teach you." And then he ducked his head between Li Ann's legs.

Li Ann threw her head back against Mac's pillow and shuddered happily.

"Oh, wow," Vic said, under his breath.

"Vic," Li Ann called out, breathily. "Come here."

Feeling more than a little awkward, but also extremely aroused, Vic lowered himself onto the mattress beside Li Ann. Mac's head bobbed between her legs, and Li Ann kept making happy little gasping noises. She clutched Vic's undershirt with one hand and pulled him closer so she could kiss him.

"Oh my God Li Ann," Vic murmured against her lips, "Are we really doing this?"

"Mmhm," she murmured, and then threw her head back and gasped again. "Oh!" she yelped, followed by a quick patter of Chinese syllables. Then her back arched and she came, gasping.

When Li Ann finally relaxed, liquid-limbed, Mac raised his head. His lips were moist and swollen from his efforts, and Vic fought down an intense erotic urge to go over to him and kiss him and taste Li Ann on his lips. He still wasn't sure to what extent he was welcome to come between them. This was their moment.

"Good?" Mac asked, in that cocky tone that, Vic realized, he pasted over his moments of greatest uncertainty.

"Yes," Li Ann breathed. "That was good."

Vic, meanwhile, had another slightly awkward realization. "I didn't know you liked getting eaten out," he said to Li Ann.

She twitched one shoulder in a lazy suggestion of a shrug. "You never asked," she said.

" _You_ could have asked," Vic pointed out.

"I thought you weren't into that kind of thing," Li Ann said.

Mac raised his eyebrows at both of them and wiped his lips. "Okay, I'm starting to see why the two of you need _me_ ," he said.

Li Ann gave a sort of rueful smile, and then swept her gaze across both men. "The two of you should take the rest of your clothes off now," she said. "And kiss each other."

Well, that was a clear instruction. Vic quickly tugged his undershirt off over his head, and pushed his jeans and socks off, letting them tumble to the floor. His cock sprang up fully erect.

He glanced over at Mac, who'd efficiently doffed his own pants and was now staring appreciatively at Vic's cock.

"Nice," Mac said, when Vic caught him looking.

So, in the interest of returning the compliment, Vic fought down his own reflexive embarrassment and took a moment to appreciate the sight of Mac's naked body.

The first impression was all sleek, long limbs. Mac was sitting with one leg curled under him and the other bent up in front, with his arms loosely draped over the knee. In fact Vic didn't have a very good view of Mac's cock from this angle, just a glimpse behind his up-raised leg. Enough to see that Mac was as hard as Vic was.

Not surprising, after what he'd just done to Li Ann.

Checking out Mac's body, Vic also couldn't help noticing the bruises—a distinctly un-erotic reminder of the hell Mac had been through recently. They'd shrunk and faded, but they were still visible all over his torso and up and down his arms and legs.

That, along with the occasional hacking cough Mac had been fighting back all evening, was enough to make Vic wonder for a moment if having sex tonight was actually a good idea. Would the doctor approve? Mac was still on half days at work, and Vic suspected he wouldn't be back yet at all if the Director trusted him to stay out of trouble at home alone.

 _Worrywart,_ chided Mac's and Li Ann's voices in unison, inside Vic's head. Okay. There was no question that Mac was up for this.

Especially since at that moment, Mac crawled over to Vic and kissed him.

"Oh, yes," Li Ann said, sounding pleased. "That is very sexy."

"Tell me about it," Mac murmured, running his hands lightly up and down Vic's arms.

Vic shivered and closed his eyes.

There was more kissing, and then Mac said very quietly, "Vic, is it okay if I touch your cock?"

Vic opened his eyes. Mac was very close to him, his shiny brown eyes searching Vic's. "Uh, sure," Vic said.

He closed his eyes and shuddered again at the light touch of Mac's fingers on his sexual organ. It felt like his nerves were sparkling at each point of contact, like one of those electric glass balls you could touch at the science centre.

"You like that," Mac said, his voice low and full of self-satisfaction. Like a cat's purr. "Is it okay if I give you a hand job?"

Vic opened his eyes into slits. "You don't have to ask about every little thing," he said.

Mac's hand stopped moving, though he didn't withdraw it. "I think it's better if I do," he said, quietly still but not in the sexy purr. "I don't know what's going too far for you. You might not even know where the line is until I ask for something that goes over it."

Vic realized that although it was a little frustrating—and a _little_ condescending—Mac had a point.

It was surprising that Mac was being so careful about this. It seemed out of character.

Well, maybe that wasn't a fair thought. There were things Mac was careful about. His clothes. His weapons. Maintaining his skills for fighting and breaking into buildings.

And making love, apparently.

Vic realized he still hadn't given an answer, and Mac had withdrawn his hand and was now just nibbling kisses along Vic's collarbone. "Uh, yes," Vic said quickly. "It's okay. I mean ... I'd like that."

Immediately, he felt Mac's firm grasp around his erection, felt Mac sliding his hand up and down.

Vic moaned, and ducked his head. The intensity of the feeling left him breathless.

"Is this hot, Li Ann?" he heard Mac asking.

"It really is," he heard her reply. There was enough surprise in her tone to reassure Vic that while Mac may have fucked many different people in various non-traditional combinations, Li Ann had never watched him do it before.

Mac brought Vic gasping to the edge of orgasm, and then slowed down. "Would it be okay if I put a finger in your ass?" he whispered in Vic's ear.

A shot of adrenaline went through Vic like ice water. "Uh," he stuttered. "Um." So that's where the line was, apparently. Vic was not ready to put anything up his formerly-straight ass.

"No, huh," Mac said. Vic hadn't uttered the word but Mac must have sensed his sudden tension. Mac sounded mildly regretful.

"Maybe another time," Vic managed to say.

"No worries," Mac said. "There are plenty of other ways to have fun." He started moving his hand faster again. "If I make you come," he said, "will you be able to get it up again afterwards?"

"Yes," Vic promised breathlessly. That at least had never been a problem for him.

"All right, good man," Mac said with a grin in his voice. "I'm going to like getting fucked by you. I want to make you come now."

Vic was trembling with the tension of staying just this side of climax; it wasn't until Mac's hand slowed down again—fucking _hell_ why was he slowing down?—that Vic realized Mac was once again asking for permission.

"Yes," Vic gritted out. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"That's what I like to hear," Mac said, delightedly, and he ramped up the tempo enough to pull Vic right over the edge.

Vic shouted when he came—wordless. Then he collapsed panting on Mac's bed.

Li Ann, less than arm's reach away, smiled at him. "That looked fun," she said.

"Yeah," Vic managed. "It was."

Mac had gone to a corner of the room to fetch a tissue box, from which he pulled a couple of kleenex and set to work wiping the sticky fluid off his own hand, and Vic's thighs and belly.

"I could do that," Vic offered, though his limbs felt far too pleasantly heavy for movement just at the moment.

"No, it's fine," Mac said. He tossed the tissues towards a handy wastebasket, and then licked his fingers, grinning at Vic. "I clean up my own messes."

"Mac," Li Ann said. "It's your turn. I want you to make love to me."

"Actually," Mac said, "how about you and Vic fuck, and I'll watch? I'd like that."

Li Ann frowned. "I'd really like it to be you, Mac. Vic and I have had lots of chances, lately. It's been—God, it's been three years since I felt you inside of me."

Mac ducked his head, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I'd really like to," he said. "Li Ann, I'd _really_ , really like to. It's just ... I still have three broken ribs. And my lungs are full of crap. I can't."

"Oh," Li Ann said, biting her lip. She glanced up and met Vic's eyes, and they shared a moment that felt like an _oops_.

"Well, you made both of us come," Vic pointed out. "I don't think it's fair if we neglect you now."

"Mac, lie down," Li Ann said decisively.

He obeyed, stretching the length of his bed and resting his head on his pillow. A faint worry line showed on his forehead, though. "I can't—Li Ann, even if you're on top, it's too much."

"I'll be gentle," she promised, stretching out beside him. "I'll do for you what you did for Vic." She took his cock in hand and started gently stroking it.

"Oh," Mac said softly, closing his eyes. "That's nice."

Vic, at the foot of the bed, quietly watched them for a minute or two. He enjoyed the sight of Li Ann's silky skin, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breast where it was pressed against Mac's side. Mac's lips, ridiculously soft, parted slightly. The dimple in his chin. His nicely-chiselled abs, clenching now in response to Li Ann's ministrations.

Li Ann's hand, her familiar, slender, elegant fingers, wrapped around Mac's long, dusky cock. Moving up and down—gently, like she'd promised. Mac's hips twitching upwards. Li Ann brushing the side of his face with kisses, tenderness in her eyes.

Vic, still relaxed from his own recent orgasm, marvelled at how happy it made him to see the two of them together like this.

It was a long, hard road to get here.

After a while, Vic thought maybe he should be contributing somehow. Li Ann wasn't rushing with Mac, and they both looked pretty content, but Vic wanted to be more than an observer. "Is there something I can do?" he asked.

Li Ann looked over at him. "Mac likes it when I talk dirty," she said, "but I'm actually not very good at it."

Mac grinned without opening his eyes. "It's true," he said. "One time she told me she wanted to make my testicles feel like two sacks of kittens."

"And you promised never to mention that again," Li Ann said, slipping her hand down to squeeze his balls.

"Vic needed to know," Mac squeaked. "It was really funny."

She kissed him and wrapped her hand around his cock again. "I forgive you," she said.

Now Vic couldn't stop thinking about kittens. "Um, actually I'm not sure _I'm_ any good at talking dirty," he confessed.

"Oh come on," Mac said. "Your texts were hot."

"That's different," Vic said. "I had more time to think. And you weren't right there."

"Do you have your phone with you?" Mac asked.

"You want me to text you _now_?"

"No, doofus," Mac said. "I want you to read the text log out loud."

Well, that was an interesting idea.

Vic grabbed his jeans off the floor and fumbled with them until he managed to get his phone out of the pocket. He flipped it open and scrolled up to the start of his texts with Mac, and then back down until he found where they started getting sexy. "Um," he cleared his throat. "I want to kiss you with your clothes off."

"That was you," Mac said, looking at Vic through slitted eyes. "I remember. That was hot. I couldn't believe I got you to say that. What did I say after that?"

"I want to hear this too," Li Ann murmured, sounding amused. She was still stroking Mac's cock, languidly.

"You said: I'll tear my clothes off, fall into bed with you on top. Wanna hold me down?"

Mac groaned happily. "Yeah, that's what I said. And what did you say?"

"I've got you pinned by the wrists," Vic read. "Kissing you hard."

"I'd like to see that," Li Ann said. "Someday soon."

"And then Mac said: Oh yeah. Grinding myself against you. My cock rubbing your hip, want to get your attention." Vic felt his voice getting husky, reading the words.

"Where was I when you two were having this conversation the first time?" Li Ann asked, bemused.

"Lying next to me on the beach," Vic confessed.

"Oh my God," Li Ann said. "Vic. You were having phone sex with Mac in _public_?" She looked at him, wide-eyed. "I am now less surprised that you agreed to come into the bedroom with us."

"I may be slightly kinkier than any of us previously realized," Vic acknowledged.

"Vic," Mac gasped. "Read the next part."

"You've got it," Vic read. "Uh, my attention, that is," he footnoted quickly, for clarity. "Now I'm taking your cock in my fist and pumping it." He looked up. "And then you came, apparently."

Li Ann whispered something in Mac's ear and sped up the motion of her hand. A moment later, Mac threw his head back and opened his mouth like he was shouting, though surprisingly he didn't make a sound. He shuddered, and relaxed.

Then he curled over away from Li Ann and coughed like he was dying for a minute or so.

"Are you okay?" she asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah," Mac said, rolling onto his back again. "Ow. But yeah. That was nice."

Vic handed over the tissue box. "I can't believe I made you come _twice_ with the same imaginary hand job. Mac, you're _easy_."

"Hey," Li Ann said in a miffed tone, wiping Mac clean. "I think it was _me_ who made him come, with an _actual_ hand job."

Mac grinned lazily. "Li Ann gets the goal. Vic gets an assist."

"Hey!" Vic grinned back. "You've been paying attention to my hockey metaphors!"

"Actually I was thinking of soccer. But okay," Mac said.

Li Ann lay back down next to Mac, and kissed him. "I love you, Mac," she said. "God, I love you so much."

And then there was silence, in the space where Vic was pretty sure 'I love you too' was supposed to go.

"That's your cue, man," Vic said mildly, looking at Mac. Who looked oddly trapped and a little panicky.

"It's hard for him to say it when he doesn't think he's about to die," Li Ann explained. She sounded wry, and more or less resigned.

"Okay, emotional deficit. You're messed up. Check," Vic said. "I guess I already knew that."

"Hey," Mac protested. "What deficit? I have ... lots of emotions."

"It's okay," Li Ann said. "I know he loves me." She kissed Mac's temple. "I read it in your diary."

"Right," Mac said faintly. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Well, there you go," Vic said. "That was easy, wasn't it? Now you can say it again."

"Li Ann, I love you," Mac whispered. He almost choked on the words, but he got them out. And then his eyes filled with tears, which quickly spilled over. "I love you," he repeated.

"Shhh," she said, and kissed his wet cheeks. "It's all right, Mac. I know. I always knew."

Vic wondered, then, if it was his turn to say it.

He'd already it said it to Li Ann, after all. He'd professed his love to her, _and_ he'd told her that he loved Mac.

He decided that now wasn't the time.

The thing with Mac was too new. They both had to ease into it some more, figure it all out, before he put it into words and put Mac in the position—apparently wrenching, for him—of deciding whether to say it back.

And this moment was really about Mac and Li Ann. They were both weeping silently now, lightly touching each other's faces as though trying to catch the tears. Three years, it had taken them to get back to this point. Each of them believing the other one lost forever, and then their awkward reunion, Vic inadvertently coming between them. Their failed attempts to move on with other people. Facing Michael again, and surviving.

The two of them had survived so much. Vic was in awe of their strength and resilience. He worried about them, and he ached to protect them from events that were already long past, but he was aware of the limitations of that particular impulse.

So now, he just waited. Close, in case they needed him. After a while, their tears stopped, and he handed them tissues.

"Sorry," Li Ann said. 

"Don't be," Vic said.

Mac didn't say anything. After he wiped his face, he tucked his head against Li Ann's shoulder, closing his eyes.

She shifted so she could rest her hand on his waist—Vic noticed she was careful to avoid his ribs. "Do you want us to stay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mac said. He sounded totally drained. "Both of you. If it's okay."

Vic went and found Mac's comforter where it had been kicked to the floor earlier. He shook it out and draped it over Mac and Li Ann—he'd noticed they had goose-bumps on their bare skin.

He briefly considered which side of the bed to climb in on. Mac and Li Ann were centred, so there was room on either side.

Then he decided that after two weeks alone, Mac deserved to be in the middle for a while. So he crawled in on that side.

Mac barely reacted—he seemed to be already falling asleep. He must have been exhausted. But Li Ann gave Vic an encouraging smile, like she'd read his thoughts and she approved.

"This is going to work," she whispered.

"Yeah," Vic agreed, reaching over Mac to gently caress her cheek. "I really think it is."

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: Please be aware that although strictly speaking no archive warnings apply, this story contains references to _past_ underage sex and rape/non-consensual sex. The story also contains references to past self-harm, and canon-typical violence.


End file.
